


The Beast You've Made of Me

by BloodOnUrsuline



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Also I am living for Trash Prince Adam, Based on my NSFW prompts from Tumblr, Beast-like qualities, Because I love you all so much, Claiming, F/M, French Aristocracy, I'd say mutual maiming but that's not entirely correct, Just all the sex all the time, Royalty, Versailles - Freeform, all the sex, mutual claiming, so much sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2018-11-03 13:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10968033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodOnUrsuline/pseuds/BloodOnUrsuline
Summary: It's hard to explain the world of the court to Belle, but Adam has done his best to prepare her.Then he realizes too late that he should have better prepared himself. Because as much as he has changed, there's a part of him that is still the prince from before. And a part that is still the Beast.(Based on the nursemz87 NSFW prompts for BatB)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [terraphim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/terraphim/gifts).



> I am actually nursemz87 from Tumblr so those prompts are originally from my terrible brain. But I thought I could at least bring them to life in a long fic. This most likely will turn into multiple one shots but we'll see.
> 
> This work is dedicated to my bestie, terraphim, because we've been bouncing writing off each other for years. And she's down right awesome.
> 
> This is straight up explicit. You have been warned....enjoy!

Another hall stretched out before them and Belle swore behind closed lips. It seemed the King and Queen preferred their guests out of breath and sweating like a long day in the fields when they arrived for introductions. Unconsciously, she tightened her grip on Adam’s hand, feeling his fingers squeeze back in support. As they continued on this seemingly never-ending journey, she felt herself growing equal parts afraid and annoyed. 

Afraid mostly of not making a good impression. She, a commoner, was being presented to the King and Queen of her country, in front of the entire court of Versailles, after marrying a mysteriously forgotten prince who owned one of the largest parcels of land and ruled over an area that over the past few months steadily began to see an increase in profits and production. To add insult to injury for the royalty, they married with only one technical court witness to the ceremony Several of the aristocracy made passing comments that the wedding wasn’t legitimate despite all of Villenueve and most of several other towns’ common folk being present for the nuptials. The witness was one of the minor ministers of finance but Adam liked (tolerated) him enough to ask him to play the part.  

The invitations to the royal palace turned into a summons directly from the King, demanding Prince Adam’s wife be presented for formal approval before her title be legally bestowed - only the King himself could make a person of low birth, non-royal lineage into a titled person and he practically lorded that over Adam in addition to commentary about what happens to those who subjects that displease their monarchs. 

So...no pressure there.

Annoyed came with everything else. Belle took very little stock in jewels, finery, makeup, shoes, accessories -- give her a dress that doesn’t limit her activities and movement any day over diamond rings and coronets. Plumette and Mme Garderobe already ‘assisted’ Belle with a more regal wardrobe, making sure several dresses were more appropriate for the physical labor and tinkering the new princess performed. But of course, when going to Versailles, everything must go completely topsy turvy.  Bolts of the finest and most fashionable silks and velvets turned into ostentatious gowns seemingly overnight. Sketches of shoes materialized into heeled contraptions of death that required practice and patience to manage, two things that sadly came in short supply with the summons. 

The jewelry came from the palace’s safes and small vault -- heirlooms from Princess Philomena, Adam’s much beloved mother, polished and cleaned to shine like stars, altered for Belle’s neckline, fingers, and ears, and packed in velvet lined boxes for safety. Her beloved husband even managed to sneak in (because she blatantly refused them when he offered them) new pieces made specifically for her. Mrs. Potts practically tied Belle down to the chair so Plumette could work out a palette for makeup while figuring out the best current styles for her hair.

They kept books in her hands, hot tea in her cup, and her husband always ready to hear her vent her frustrations during and help her more...physically later on. 

Her free hand brushed absently over the skirt of her new gown as she saw her reflection in one of the many mirrors lining the halls. An early onset of cooler autumn weather allowed her to don darker colors which, in turn, allowed her to get away with wearing only a faint dusting of powder as her natural pallor came out. Though she continued to work outside in the gardens, her lessons in royal behaviors and duties kept her mostly indoors and in the library and study. Apparently without extensive hours in the sun, she became significantly paler. She wore a deep wine colored silk patterned with small leaves and vines in a burnished gold colored thread. The dress style, a Watteau gown, hung loose like a cape at the back and the faint breezes of open windows periodically ruffled her skirts.

Shoes with similarly colored material and bows stood striking against the pearlescent white of her stockings. Curls of every shape and size rose up from her neck into an artful arrangement complete with golden barrettes encrusted with tiny dark gems. A pair of rubies hung from her ears, suspended with the same color gold as tree of life necklace she wore that fateful night of dancing that felt forever ago. A touch of rouge to her lips, a blend of warm colors over her eyelids with complimentary black lines along the edges -- she didn’t realize she stopped walking until Adam moved more predominately into her view in the mirror. 

“You’ll be alright, my love,” Adam whispered, drawing her hand up to kiss it for what seemed to be the thousandth time in the last two hours. “And if I haven’t said it already, you are the most beautiful creature these halls ever had the honor to host.”  The blue of his eyes shimmered in the low light of candles in from the many many chandeliers and candelabras lining the hall. Belle felt near breathless at the sight, blush rushing up her cheeks not even remotely tamed by the powder on her face and neck. She could barely feel his lips through the soft silk gloves she wore, but the slight pressure suffused calm through the material and into her skin.

“I’m sure I will be, dearest,” she whispered just as quietly, turning away from their reflection and towards him. Courtly behavior dictated distance but from the second they received the summons, her husband made clear how goddamn ridiculous those rules were and that he’d be damned all over again if he was expected to keep his hands off his own wife. “I’m with you, my galant prince, and I know only safety and peace with you,” she soothed, noting the worried crease of his brow as he studied her.

“I will not let go of you nor will I stand for any of their ridicule or ill humor towards you. Anyone says a word out of line and I’ll have them in the stocks or worse before you can blink,” he intoned in a firm but low voice. He brought her hand back to his lips. “You are my wife and a princess, the paperwork be damned. They will show you respect.”

“As we will show them respect and arrive just slightly before the time assigned to us,” she returned in a cheeky whisper. “So let’s go before I actually have to run in this ridiculous contraption.” He chuckled quietly, kissing her cheek before they resumed their walk.

A smattering of courtiers lined the hall, most of them already in the grand hall where they, along with several others, would receive their formal reception from the officials, courtiers, King and Queen. Those that recognized Adam took brief double takes at his lack of wig, powder, makeup, or smug expression; that he wore a plainer material (for Versailles and Adam’s past life standards), his natural hair with curls, and guided along an unknown woman who wore his mother’s ring -- the whispers crept up the walls and into the vaulted ceilings in no time. Remembering the lessons provided by the very attentive people at their home, she knew to nod to this one and dip her chin slightly to that one. Everyone that they passed bowed with all the necessary amount of respect towards them both but kept eyes very intensely focused on their every move. 

“Judgement even from the frames of the paintings,” Plumette explained. “The very walls of Versailles keeps meticulous records of every whisper and scandal.” And Prince Adam’s marriage certainly fueled the verbal fires in every corner of the court.

They turned several more corners, the amount of people increasing as they went until it became near impossible to move without creating a motion not unlike Moses parting the waters. The dull roar of multiple conversations began to hush as they approached large doorway bearing the most beautiful and ornate decorations. What seemed like hundreds of painted porcelain faces with abnormally pink cheeks, faux beauty marks, and impossibly towering wigs lined both sides of a space created specifically for them to continue their slow march through. Eyes everywhere - curious, angry, annoyed, bored, critical - assessed every move, how they held themselves, how they touched each other (bare minimum, her hand resting every so softly on his, the knuckle of his index finger rubbing a tiny but soothing circle against her finger), their simultaneous lack of excessive makeup, her ‘plain’ selection for jewelry. Belle took it in with a muted face, mimicking Adam’s cool reserved expression but with a soft smile as they made one final turn and paused their walk. 

The King, Louis XV, sat in a golden chair that only served to enhance the depth of the deep blue of his coat and breeches as well as the brilliantly patterned golden waistcoat. Though he wore a smaller wig than most, there was no mistake for the quality of the hair, the perfection of the tiered curls on either side of his head. Not a single mark on the pure white of his stockinged legs down to his heeled shoes, as if he only floated to the chair instead of walking. 

The Queen, Marie Leczinska, sat in the chair next to him, a serene presence with a soft but indifferent smile on her face. Her regal countenance only seemed to be bolstered by the golden dress she wore, heavily embroidered with deep red flowers with crystals or rubies sewn into the bodice. Ruffled sleeves ran from her the middle of her upper arm to just her elbow, small golden ribbons peeking out between each layer. She regarded Belle with a cross between polite boredom and mild curiosity, something Belle graciously accepted over the many stares piercing her back from the rest of the blood thirsty court.

Adam and Belle bowed and curtsied respectively, their obeisance of deep respect already being picked apart in whispers and squinted eyes around them.

The King regarded them silently, allowing them both to hang in suspended motion for a few moments before intoning in a deep but soothing tenor, “So finally you have graced us with your presence after so long, cousin.” Adam and Belle rose as one, her hand resting just a bit more firmly over his. “Your health seems quite recovered from your illness. Has the country air filled your lungs too much to enjoy our perfumed gardens once more?” Belle knew this to be a ploy, a tease to see how Adam would return words to his familial monarch. Prolonged illness of an unusual sort became the official story; Adam frowned when Lumieré tried to embellish the story al little more with ‘unusual hair growth’. 

But there they stood, before their rulers, a knife edge of wrong words away from disaster. The Great Game in motion as it were. Her heart skipped nervously in her chest but steadied as she felt Adam briefly drop his little finger along her index finger and caress it (he told her little touches until afterwards and showed her this as a sign he was with her and they were strong together and she may have kissed him senseless and stripped him of his clothes after that).

“Your majesty’s gardens are a rare and exotic delight, ever changing but ever the grand delight and beauty to mine eyes. It is a great honor and pleasure to receive your invitation to return to Versailles, to behold the glory of it all once more. The country air has done much for my health and I wish to express my thanks to your gracious majesty for allowing ample time for my fullest recovery. But I will admit to becoming acclimated more to the wildness of the countryside. For all of the glories of the palace, I have come to enjoy the simplicity of the flora and fauna in our provence.”

“Oh? And which pretty flower has kept you so captivated?” the King asked, a small smirk aimed with precision towards Belle. She felt nerves nearly get the best of her when Adam turned his hand and took a full grip of her own, raising it ever so minutely as to answer his cousin without the words. 

But he spoke anyway.

“Roses, your majesty,” he announced with a faintly coy smile. “Roses of the most unusual beauty.”

* * *

 

_“…and I will have to introduce you to my hair dresser, Francois. You will simply die in his hands! He is the artisté extraordinaire of the hair world and can work miracles of anyone!”_

_“…Simply sad to see. His mistress, so adept as working the gossip circles, has no idea he’s already decided to move on to another woman. His wife doesn’t even try to keep up with who’s who in his bed anymore.”_

_“…Marie-Therese passed two years ago in child birth. Poor soul! But her husband did not heed the physician’s warnings that his wife was fragile of body. You would think after 11 births, only 3 not stillborn, he would let the poor thing rest.”_

_“…and that he’s not head to toe in powder? My dear Prince Adam, did you finally sneeze off the excess from your wig or your cheeks?”_

_“…the whole affair with Britain is becoming more ridiculous. How much more can the royal coffers take if we go to war once more?”_

_“…he doesn’t host those grand balls anymore? Surely because he’s no longer ill, they will return, yes? I must say, my aunts spoke of those parties as if they rivaled anything the King himself could host! Please send word to me when they return once more!”_

If Adam could accurately describe the sensation in his head, the best words to choose fell somewhere between his brain feeling like warm pudding oozing out of his ears or already broken pieces being smashed to dust in his skull. Using the mirrors, he spotted Belle as she continued to talk with two duchesses. Both of the women - married, young, kind for their rank - appeared to make his beloved wife more at ease with whatever their conversation contained. Mentally he marked down the need to forward some small gifts of thanks to them in a roundabout way for being so kind to Belle. He glanced back towards the lords in the small circled they created when the whisper slid up into his ear like a poisonous snake.

“…and she is rather a pretty thing, isn’t she? For a commoner, of course.”

“Indeed. Though I must I give her her due, not coming in caked with jewels. Girls from the gutter always seem so hell bent on being bedecked like a Queen. This one appears to know she’s being watched. Humble is a better course overall. Interloper and all.”

“Hmm, yes. Humble or not, she carries herself well. Especially in cut of her gown. His majesty did always preferred women with naturally ample bosoms, did he not?” Adam’s jaw tightened slightly but he remained composed. If not leaning slightly more towards the source of the whispers.

“Given how loose that corset seems to be tied, she is more breast than waist and even more in the hips than either!” The Prince’s teeth started to ache as he unconsciously ground them together. “Pick of the flock and some how, even with some random street urchin, he manages to pluck up such a shapely one.”

“Makes one wonder - did he take her on the bed or in the hayloft first? Girl like that has only seen dogs and horses. Probably didn’t know to spread her thighs, just get on her knees!” A smatter or tittering laughs and Adam felt his blood pressure rising at an obscene rate. Glancing at the mirror once more, he thanked God Belle continued to be absorbed in conversation instead of hearing these lecherous things being spoken so close by. His gaze shifted again and marked, with extreme prejudice, in his memory the faces of these depraved asses. One of whom happened to be trying to maneuver a marriage for his own daughter to a station above his own. 

But these whispers only bled into more as he moved about the room, greeting this one and that one. And his hearing, so acute as a residual effect from being an animal for more than a decade, allowed him to focus and pick up on other words. All of the other words.

_“…those dainty little feet, probably attached to farmer’s thighs and hips. Good for all sorts of ploughing!”_

_“…and how is it such a slender neck stays so pale? Years of working in the sun? Ha, probably years of laying in the dark on her back!”_

_“…no, no, with lips like that? If I were him, I’d have her on her knees first in the morning and last at night. The poor learn to suck the marrow from bones so the skill is already there!”_

_“…breasts swollen up like a cow’s teat. Has the Prince already planted a babe in her belly or just not milked her properly?”_

_“…flip her a few times on the bed and leave her in a puddle. Probably used to sleeping somewhere damp.”_

_“…too stiff, she is. But a good flick of my fingers and I’d have her purring like a kitten with cream.”_

_“…does he even take care of her? Or does she just keep the lady’s wing from gathering dust while he enjoys all those fillies once more?”_

_“…and no balls? Must be to appease her. Can’t keep the wife happy in the bed if he’s still rotating women like so many dying flowers in a vase!”_

By the time he reached her, his face appeared strained as he tried to keep composure. But as the voices continued, each lecherous sentence echoing like Gaston’s gunshots in his head, Belle turned toward him, eyes alight and happiness at his appearance causing them to glow. He felt like a sunflower turning into the brightness of the sun. “My dearest husband,” she smiled in a soft voice as she laid her hand on his. At his sudden harsh grip, her eyebrow quirked but her face continued to be just as pleasant and cheerful. “Have you come to rescue me at last?” Adam smirked, nodding towards the two women standing nearby before greeting them cordially. Small talk initiated and successfully completed, he excused them both to move on and speak with some others he knew needed direct address. 

As they moved, this one and that one speaking with them as they went, he desperately tried to drown out the whispers. So many things that he felt came as a twice punishment - once for Belle and completely undeserving, a second for him, though he totally deserved it. Once upon a time, he spoke such words — cruel, vain, horrible words — about women and men in this very room. He saw their eyes, their gazes confused if not predatory towards him. And as his free hand lay ever so gently on her waist, completely acceptable for a man and wife, he swore he saw red in their eyes. As he pressed a soft kiss to her temple, gaze casting about the room, his fingers tightened slightly against her thick dress.

His Belle, his beauty, was seen as his weakness. And they aimed to attack at her goodness, her purity, and wound him however they could. All of this he duly expected, warned Belle multiple times not to listen to their words, reinforced time and again that they would always be seen as odd or strange and outsiders to the world of French aristocracy. This was completely expected.

“Sweet madame, I so desire an invitation to your palace. The gardens, I am told, have grown slightly wild. With so many beautiful flowers to see and touch. Are your gardens so grand?” The marquis winked so rapidly Belle may not have even caught it but Adam did. She responded with such love for her actual gardens that double meaning did not seem to strike her.

“And your grape vines, your vineyards in the north? Are they so…ripe as the flowers are blooming near Villenueve?” As she answered, so regal and proud of her gardens and the vineyards she yet to view herself, he took up her hand and kissed the ring on her finger, the signet bearing his family crest, their family crest, before he kissed the delicate digit it rested upon. 

But no matter what he blocked out, those words kept coming. In a way he wasn’t exactly expecting.

_“I desire so much the chance to taste the delicacy of the countryside. How wonderful for his majesty, your new husband, to keep it all for himself! No wonder he’s not aged a day on such delicious fruits!”_

_“…sweet smelling blooms, heavy with perfume…”_

_“…delicious salad and hardy vegetables, good for the bones of such men as the Prince…”_

_“…plump fruits, pregnant with such sweet juices and ready for the best wine…”_

_“…and I admire a land able to produce such divine treats as such we have seen…”_

Adam heard it all. Every. Single. Word.

He felt it down into his very marrow, stinging like electric into his bones and into the pads of his fingers as they twitched against her bodice. Against her hips as his hand drifted and he fought off the burning desire to grasp her as hard as possible against his body. He settled for courtly signs of affection in abundance.

It appeared the courtiers found a different route to get under his skin - heavy innuendos and flirting with his wife. In the back of his mind, his possessive reputation for all things beauty sat heavy like a boulder and while he now knew their tactics, it unfortunately was too late. Every word stung like a hornet, raising his skin and making him want to lash out and slap them away. A lingering look from a viscount here, a slightly scandalous turn of phrase from a lord there, one duke holding his wife’s hand for a moment too long, a duchess’ fleeting brush of fingers over her shoulder in a bid for her attention…his jaw popped from grinding his teeth so hard.

“And his majesty will be taking his supper _au petit couvert_ tomorrow night,” some bloated lord with a lengthly powdered wig informed him and Belle with a flourish. “And extends and invitation to you, my Prince, and your new wife,” he burbled, lingering on the last word with a firm sweep of his eyes over her form. “I know that supper comes at different times in the countryside but for a seat here, I remind you, please be at the doors by no later than 10 minutes to 10.”

“Well that will be of no problem, my lord,” Belle addressed him with a kind expression. “My Prince has kept the same times for supper even so far away as Villenueve. We are greatly honored by his majesty’s invitation.” Adam barely suppressed the desire to punch the lord square in the nose as Belle dipped a perfect curtsey to the man who still technically held a higher rank than her and the man’s eyes focused on the rise of her breasts against the bodice of the dress.

The clock chimed distantly - midnight came upon them swiftly (had they only entered the room 40 minutes ago?). Knowing fully well the expectations, Adam dismissed the lord with a short nod and an brief explanation of still being tired from the roads. The lord bowed respectfully and backed away before turning to follow the crowd as it moved towards the King’s bedchamber. As Belle realized what was coming, she shot him a slightly horrified look. “No, my love,” he whispered to her, tucking her arm around his own. “We will not be taking part in the…grand ceremony of watching a man don his night clothes and climb into bed.”

“They seem so…excited about it. Like they’re…enjoying the whole thing?” Belle puzzled, unsure of which words to actually use.

“Anything to make you seem as loyal as possible makes you as desperate at possible,” he murmured, making sure that no one was within ear shot. He guided them back through the doorway and into the much less crowed hall. As he calculated whether or not going back through the palace itself, to the very small apartments they were graciously granted (minimal rats apparently), one small group of courtiers stood off the side, engrossed in their own conversation until they caught sight of the pair.

Adam tried not to pay attention.

Really. He really did. Hand to heart, Mrs. Potts-threatening-to-pour-hot-tea-over-his-head-if-you-don’t-tell-the-truth promised he tried.

But as they passed, several of them leered directly at her, one of them licking his lips and wagging his tongue at her as they passed. Their mutterings about farm girls ‘always make for the best roll in the hay’  almost made him snap. Adam’s arm jerked as if to turn but Belle, his beautiful beautiful bride, love of his life, clamped his arm tight in her hold and forced them to walk at a measured pace ever forward.  As they crossed  from one hall into the next, he focused desperately on regulating his breathing but knew, just knew he wouldn’t be able to keep composed for very long.

He took them out through one of the servant’s passages. These long, plain halls darkened with only vague candlelight here and there provided some measure of reprieve from the courtiers. But of course, as they passed servants, pausing to dip bows and let them continue, he felt even their eyes taking the pair in, measuring up the beautiful woman at his side who kindly greeted them with a nod or a soft ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ as they passed. Their eyes took in what their mouths soon would whisper to their masters and mistresses. How his hand gripped so tightly to hers, the disgusted expression on his face, the worried but kind smile of his wife, how they moved through rat-littered side halls instead of the grand ones cast in gold, glass, and marble. Their outward affection, so happily accepted and admired in their own home, in Villenueve and the many towns in the province, stood as an oddity, something to be scorned here. The walls felt suffocating, the cracks in the plaster and peels in the paper mocking him.

Adam felt like he couldn’t breath. 

Distantly, he recognized the echo of his wife’s voice. “…Adam, we’re almost there, hold onto me,” she encouraged quietly. He realized they still walked and entered the last long hall to their apartments. The pale light of the candles and the lack of other persons gave him a shock of peace. After a quick stuttering of feet, he closed his eyes and took a solid cleansing breath. Pressure building behind his eyes from stress and strain dropped slightly in the silence. A moment away from the court, away from eyes. Never had the years of being trapped in the palace in the countryside seemed more like a blessing.

Belle wrapped her arm around his middle, her free hand squeezing his tightly. “I love you,” she whispered, her lips brushing his cheek and earlobe before pressing the most delicate kiss to his flushed skin. “I love you, Adam.” She repeated it several times, letting him catch his breath and relax away some of the last hours. Fluttering kisses over his jaw brought him even more peace. When he opened his eyes, the darkened hall before him, he heaved a loud breath in relief. 

Lips against his cheek once more made him turn to gaze down at Belle. So much concern and love in those eyes, the demure paleness of her skin allowed the rosy color of her cheeks to be so striking, no rouge or powder needed to enhance her beauty. The arm around his waist held tightly, her fingers stroking gently against his whitened knuckles, her breath warm and soothing against his skin.

His wife. His Belle. His eyes soaked in her entirely. The rise and fall of her breasts against the tight constraints of her bodice and corset. The random fly away hairs that came loose from Plumette’s expert hair stylings. A slight line of sweat on her forehead, flush of color from chest to cheeks. All of their leers, their comments about her physical being, her sexuality and sensuality, his ability to please her and how they would fulfill her needs…

A deeper voice, rumbling and angry rose up within him, animalistic in its possessive nature as the thoughts turned from soothing to fiery. _MY wife. MY Belle._ The growl building inside escaped him without his bidding but the effect came instantly in how her pupils blew wide, a thin band of gold visible around dark depths. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she started to pant and he imagined a thousand things at once that all revolved around her...

* * *

 

He scarcely remembered how he managed to get them down the hall, even less of how he managed to get them into their rooms. But the bang of the door and softer bang of Belle’s form as he pressed her into the wall seemed to resume his awareness. Their harsh breathing sent flashes of heat over his face as their lips tangled in a desperate dance. His hands found purchase in her billowy skirts, discovering the shape of her hips beyond the material. A growl emanated once more, vibrating their kiss as he raised her up and she managed to slightly wrap a leg around him, her foot pressing into the back of his knee. The hellfire in his belly flared violently and he sunk his teeth into her bottom lip, jerking the plump flesh before attacking again. A desperate and breathy whine came from his lovely bride, her lips trying to form words around their kisses.

Pulling back slightly, he ran his hands up to her breasts, squeezing so harshly the tops of her pink areoles peaked beyond the edge of her bodice. He pressed hard kisses to the raised flesh and as the desire to suck at her nipples, to taste the sweetness of her flesh with his teeth and tongue, he realized just how much clothing remained in the way. Their eyes met, their heaving chests against each other. Her fingers traced feather light over his cheek and into his mussed hair. Leaving one hand still pressed to her bodice, he brought the other one up to cover her chin and jaw on one side. A long index finger drew across her cheek while his thumb pressed into her now swollen lower lip. Tilting her head forward, she captured the top of the digit between her teeth, biting and sucking before letting it slide out from between her lips. The circle of gold in her eyes seemed to glow with the fire within. Cradling his face, she leaned close enough that he felt her lips as she spoke in a voice so low and sultry, only the filthiest of thoughts came from her words.

“Adam, touche moi. Touchez-moi partout, mon amour,” she whispered. His grip on her breast and chin tightened and she whimpered out, “J'ai besoin de vous! Prenez-moi! Je suis à vous!”

Wrapping his fingers over the edge of the bodice, he let his nails scrape against her skin and watched with feral delight as her eyes slammed shut with a harsh gasp. Their foreheads touched and he watched her try to maintain some control over herself. That simply wouldn’t do.

“Mien,” he growled, lips brushing against hers.

Her response came on a faint wisp of air. “Oui, le vôtre.” Then she moaned, shocked and loud, as the awful sound of rending material echoed in the small room and he tore into her clothes. 

The gown in all of it’s glory and good service to the lady who wore it soon lay in an undignified heap on the floor, ripped down the center of the bodice. Despite the durability of the thread, the sleeves and where the skirt met the bodice separated with brief whine. The air filled with harsh snaps of laces and some of the actual whale bone in the corset along with a litany of groans, grunts, growls, and moaning. Delicate silks and cotton underthings met violent ends, shredded into jagged ribbons. A soft thud of his clothes - tight, choking, restraining - joined the pile with parts too destroyed to be saved. His breeches slung low to his hips and her stockings remained just barely on her legs, one shoe lost on the floor and the other falling off.

Belle panted, unable to determine the line of pleasure and pain they trod as Adam switched from one breast to another, all tongue and teeth and scraping. She felt him shift her up the wall slightly with hands firm against her ass, fingers pressing bruises into her pale skin. Her thighs bracketed his hips, the heat of his torso and the friction of his pelvis making it impossible for her to even attempt to keep quiet. Harsh shrill breaths blended with his name, pleas for mercy or for more.

One of his hands shifted from her buttocks down, fingers grazing over her puckering hole and making her jolt slightly before the now familiar but always scintillating sensation of his fingers against her sex made her sigh shakily. A single long, talented finger slid inside of her, curling to brush against that mysterious and wonderful patch of spongy flesh that flushed a whimpering cry from her swollen lips. Liquid heat coated his finger as he bit a line of deep red across her collar bones. Two, then three fingers stretched her, spread her essence beyond her nether lips and smeared it over her thighs. His thumb slid up and circled around her slippery nub causing a series of stuttering vowels to emanate from within her breathy whines and moaning.

“Adam,” she whimpered, pressing weak kisses to his forehead and temple as his lips continue to press dark patterns to her chest and neck. The fingers of her one hand tangled in his hair and she tugged to get his attention but he merely growled, vibrating her skin and making her falter for a moment as she gathered her fractured wits. Tucking her arm down between them, she scratched her nails against his belly before finding the edge of his loosened breeches. Without preamble, she reached inside and took his engorged length in a sudden and tight hold. Now he faltered, a shocked breath escaping him, his face pressing into her neck. When she stroked him once, twice, then a twist of her palm over the leaking head of of his cock, he found his lungs barely functional for the lack of air. Withdrawing his fingers, he used both hands to grasp her waist and pin her harshly to the wall as he tried to keep hold of that last threat of control. 

But Belle tugged his head back, brushing their lips together as she begged, “Adam, Adam, please.” Her teeth grazed his chin and she bit down slightly before breathing out, “Inside. I want you inside of me. _Now._ ”

A buzzing noise filled his ears for the moment it took for him move her hand, yank down his breeches and line himself up with her soaking core.

The force of his thrust slammed her into the wall, raising a dent in the plaster. An animal’s growl escaped him as her wet channel enveloped his member. But he gave no quarter and proceeded to thrust with intensity and purpose into his wife’s willing body. Grabbing her thighs, he raised her legs higher up on his torso, her knees damn near pressing into his shoulders. It shifted her pelvis and she flat out screamed when he thrust into at the new angle. He briefly remembered a time when he pressed her knees to her chest and took her that way as she lay reclined on the couch in their library back in Villenueve. She hardly knew she could bend that much but found herself molding to accommodate his movements much as she did now. 

The white noise dissipated leaving him with a more glorious sound: his beautiful wife’s strained voice. Her repeating cries and encouragements now filled his ears, a mysterious and wonderful blend of her expansive vocabulary and well learned slang, swears and debauched demands that would make the most hardened soldier take pause. She bit his upper lip, dragging her teeth over it as she told him how she wanted him to leave no part of her unmarked. When she sunk her nails in his back, the pain turning to the purest fiery pleasure, she told him to leave her unable to walk, unable to breath without feeling his touch. As he sucked one of her swollen nipples into his mouth and stepped to better thrust up into her, she cried out how much she loved how he fucked her, how no one would ever ever be able to fill her up like he did, that the thought of him spending inside of her caused her to stain more than one pair of her undergarments. 

Another praise came to her lips but faltered and turned into a broken cry of his name as she crested and fell into a harsh but desperately needed _petite mort_. Adam grunted with each thrust as her channel convulsed and pulled such a need for him to find completion that he found himself moving impossibly faster. Belle held onto his shoulders with a weak grasp; she barely held onto consciousness as everything throbbed. But even with so little a hold on him, she felt the tensing of his shoulders and neck; she registered his fingers clamping her thighs in an even more impossibly tighter grip. Her body continued to ride out the euphoric wave as his pelvis continued to brush against her clit with an increased pace though she doubted she had the strength for another release.

For all that she reveled in finding her own completion, she felt a deeper satisfaction as he found his within her. That this man, though he be infuriating, childish, argumentative, and a thousand other descriptors worthy of his impossible nature, belonged gloriously to her. She forced herself to remain conscious and feel every second of him within her.

She tried a least.

Until he came. And unleashed the most animalistic roar against her neck, mouth wide with the sound before he bit down on her pulse, nearly tearing her flesh. 

It came so sudden, so unexpected, and so violently that she felt everything within her swell and burst all at once. Liquid fire filled her veins and she screamed out as it washed over her. She sunk her nails into his back, leaving bloody trails as she dragged them up to his neck. Her vision turned dark and she became blind, deaf even, to the world around them. Reality fell away and only Adam kept her from floating away completely.

* * *

 

 

Stunning.

Breathtaking.

Angelic.

Perfection.

Worthy of all the greatest words yet none could ever accurately describe.

Worthy of the greatest artists yet none could capture this woman in paint or charcoal.

Adam felt all of these as he peeled his eyes open and leaned his head back to gaze upon his wife. Soaked in sweat, covered bites and bruises from his lips, she barely remained upright if not for his firm hold on her and the wall behind her. Eyes shut and mouth hanging open as she took desperate gulps of air, he saw her as the most holy saint and the greatest sin, all bound up in her form. Pressing soft kisses to her jaw, he soaked in her weak mewls and sighs as the praise of the highest order. His softening cock remained inside of her still twitching sex, their mutual releases dripping down their thighs. Exhaustion rapidly began to set in and as much as he wanted to stay here, he deep inside of his darling Belle, if he waited any longer, neither would make it to the bed tonight.

As he shifted to kick away his breeches from around his feet, his cock slipped out of her, eliciting a quiet but mournful sound of his nearly unconscious wife. That she missed the feel of him within her even now made him swell with pride and joy. Sliding his hand up her back, he pressed his hand to her neck and let her head flop forward onto his shoulder. Despite being completely deadweight, she weighed nothing in his arms. He relished holding her in his arms like this before making the vast journey from the wall by the door to their bed.

The bedding already turned down earlier by Plumette meant less maneuvering as Adam first sat down before rolling them both onto the mattress. Versailles had a long way to go towards comfort for anyone outside of the King and Queen and their children but given how tired he was, he found himself thankful for a bed at all. He lay them on their side, kissing her forehead and temple gently as he repositioned himself. She shifted to wrap her one arm up under his shoulder, the other over his side with her hand just grazing the top of his buttocks. They tangled their legs together and pulled so close that not even a breath could move between their bodies.

As he let himself drift into sated exhaustion, he felt her lips move at his throat. “Adam?”

“Yes, my only love?”

She sighed, fighting sleep, “Only yours.”

His grin came with little effort. “As I am only yours, Belle.”

Just as they claimed each other, sleep quickly claimed them both.


	2. The Curse on Young Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam can't get enough of his wife. And thankfully, she is very much in the same boat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***This chapter is essentially pure smut. Pretty much porn. No holding back for this one. Minimal plot exposition (next chapter for that). Just sex sex sex sex.***  
> *You're welcome*

For a split second, Belle feared for her fingernails. Despite the buffing, trimming, filing, and polishing by Plumette, and years of manual labor, she feared that they all soon would crack and split, leaving blood and throbbing pain. How sheets and mattress would manage to destroy something that scratched bark to check the wick of small trees and didn’t bend, she honestly couldn’t say. But as she dug them into the linens and silk, feeling threads give way under the tension and pull, she felt the thought come and go within a moment, replaced by more intense sensations. Like the quivering of tired but excited muscles, the fat beads of sweat rolling down her neck and pooling in the valley between her breasts and the dip of her belly, the purposely slow drag of her husband’s tongue over her sex…

A ragged sigh escaped her as she felt Adam adjust his grip on her thighs, holding them firmly as he bent her legs up a little more. The slight change in angle allowed him to place his mouth over almost the entirety of her sex for a moment before he continued to work at her swollen and sensitive nub. Placing her one leg over his shoulder, he used the fingers of his freed hand to stroke her slit and begin to pump one, two, three digits into her. Hoarse moans and panting breaths created an erotic chorus, something so sweet and sinful to Adam’s ears that he increased the pace of his attentions, tongue and fingers working to increase the volume and desperation in Belle’s song. 

At the same time her heel dug into his shoulder, her thigh muscles began to tremor in earnest and her breathing pitched up high and fast. Turning the fingers inside of her slightly, he found that soft, spongy place inside her. Grinning against her, he decided not to merely touch and rub but instead curled his fingers, scraping his nails ever so slightly over that spot. The effect was immediate - Belle arched off the bed, a short harsh shout escaping before her body fought desperately for air; muscles contracted harshly around his fingers, coating them with her release. Her taste - musk, female, rich, Belle - spiked his own desire and he found himself groaning as he ground his hips against the bed. 

He kept his promise to himself about her coming first (multiple times, as much as he could get her, as she could stand); he made this promise this morning upon waking to find himself so blissfully entangled with his wife. But now his own body demanded release, satisfaction that he only her body could provide.

Withdrawing his hand, he held her thighs apart and slid up to rest his own hips between her own. He relished the feel of her still spasming muscles in her legs and stomach against his own straining musculature. Lapping up the sweat from her left breast to her neck, he bit down slightly on the tendon there, making it muscle jump almost in time with those her her lower half. Gazing upon her face, he felt a swell of pride and smugness wash over him - her mouth hung open slightly as she continued to drag in mouthfuls of humid air; her hair lay as a tangled mass, sweat soaked and shining in the very early morning light; eyes closed, scrunching up every so often when another contraction of muscle pinged through her. 

“Belle,” he whispered, lips pressed her to chin, then her jaw, then her cheek and over an eye. “Belle, mon amour.” Gently touching her face, he guided her lips to his own, swallowing her whimper as he explored her beautiful mouth. A shiver ran down his spine as her hands lightly ran over his shoulders and neck. “Mon amour, mon ange,” he breathed faintly. She adjusted herself beneath him, arching her back and shivering herself as her oversensitive nipples brushed against the smattering of pale hair of his own chest. When she rolled her hips, spreading her legs just a bit more to accommodate his body, the still soaking flesh of her sex pressed firmly against his hardness, hot and straining. Adam choked, one hand tangling in her messy hair, the other holding her thigh, both tightening at the sensation. “Belle?” he asked in a strangled voice.

“Yes,” she sighed, hands grabbing at his cheeks to keep kissing him. “Yes, please.” As he guided himself into her wet heat, she held tighter to his face. “God, yes, please! Please Adam!” she begged, crying out as he harshly thrusted into her. Biting down his bottom lip, she pulled the flesh with her teeth, nipping the very edge hard enough to draw small amount of blood. Running her thumbs up his cheeks, she fixed him with a look that would have killed a lesser man. “Don’t stop,” she commanded with a hoarse voice. “Don’t stop until I’m screaming your name. Don’t stop until you are screaming mine.” Kissing him harshly again, she continued, “Fill me up with you until I can’t take anymore. I am yours and you are mine!”

Later, Adam could recall every detail of the following minutes despite the heavy haze over his mind. Of her nails raking bloody trails over his shoulders and back. Of the obscene sound of their hips working against each other, slapping of sweat soaked skin and wetness of her body taking his into it. How it felt to have her crest not once but twice before he found completion. How she pressed her hands to his buttocks and begged him to stay inside her as he came, the faint memory of her being at the peak of her woman’s cycle not bothering either one of them. If a child came of today, of this trip, it came from a time and place of absolute love and affection. A distant thought of her, swollen with a babe as she moved slowly, hands over her belly, and readying for a new life, provided a moment of absolute joy in his mind and tears crept to his eyes.

But all plans and thoughts of the future he put aside for now as he lay with his exhausted Belle. They kicked the sweat and sex-soaked sheets off the small bed, preferring to let the cool morning air dry their skin. Adam naturally ran warm so neither feared freezing as they rested. He felt her lick her lips before a contented sigh blew over his neck and chest. Her hands absently moved up and down his back and side, soothing the skin she reddened and broke with her nails earlier. He smiled faintly at the thought and fact of them - he’d carry the marks of his wife’s pleasure and satisfaction with him for several days. Even the throbbing of the irritated skin provided him with a reminder, her presence with him through the tedium and annoyances of their stay at court.

“Do we have to get up?” he felt her whisper, voice so tender and soft he felt himself fall in love with her just a little bit more.

“No, mon ange. We have a few hours still to rest.” Kissing the crown of her head, he nuzzled her hair. “Sleep, dearest. We have no where to be until later this morning.” They shifted in unison, legs moving into familiar knots with each other, shoulders and arms sliding into more comfortable positions. The unfamiliar and lumpy mattress stood no match for two who could find peaceful rest on broken glass and gravel as long as they held each other. 

As the sun made to completely rise above the horizon, Adam and Belle fell fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

The sound of familiar soft footfalls in the other room brought Adam slowly into consciousness. Years of Lumiere as his valet and Plumette as the maid for his chambers, he could pick them out by simply hearing the way their shoes hit the floor. His still preternatural hearing, another left over gift/annoyance from his time as the Beast, picked up their faint whispers. They went over their princess and prince’s schedules for the day before speaking about the other courtiers and servants. Amazing how fast word could travel from one end of the palace to the other in a matter of a few hours. And it appeared on that note…

“Yes, I’ve already heard,” Plumette sighed with a slight giggle. “The window was shut and the winds were up last night so I brushed most of it off as the weather. But still, there’s very little I can say to avert talk when the walls are so thin and they are…well, they are…”

“So enthusiastic?” Lumiere supplied without an ounce of cruelty or mocking. “Oui, mon amore. But there are so many royals so desperately unhappy that they assume the same of others. Probably more shocking that Adam and Belle are actually in love with one another.” The faint sound of linen being shaken out and a rush of tissue paper as their clothes were being prepared. “It does not help that his own ways in the past are the only thing anyone wants to speak of at times. Not four times did I ask one of the servants to stop whispering about seeing him in the halls going to someone’s room last night. Well, they said that before they returned to their rooms but after last night and before sunrise…not so much a problem this morning.”

Adam felt himself chuckle quietly as the two laughed in hushed tones. As much as his own past continued to haunt him, and right as it should, that anyone thought him going into some lonely baroness or countess’ room last night most thoroughly got silenced. He was also very thankful towards the pair in the other room, both of them readily accepting of how he and Belle conducted themselves but in public and private. When Belle had questions for which books had no response or needed a friendly voice to give answer to, she had Plumette. He had Lumber’s eye rolling and laughter at the antics of a man desperately in love and unable to control himself. Having him as friend and confidante helped keep the anxiety and worry at bay.

“Ah, ‘ere it is!” Plumette sighed thankfully. “I brought the face paint and powder just in case either of them wanted to use it. Belle will most likely need it this morning. I’m afraid most of her neck scarves and collars still leave much of the neck exposed. And Mrs. Potts sent the poultice powder with the onion and sage. I’ll get some vinegar from the kitchens.”

“Does that help?”

“Keeps la princesse from looking a bruised peach all the time,” Plumette teased, probably sending a wink at her lover before the door open and closed. Lumiere went about his tasks occasionally humming to himself but otherwise quiet.

A soft moan drew his attention back. The dark haired creature in his arms stirred, shifting against him as she began to wake. In the brighter light of the morning, he silently studied his wife and found himself trying to hold in more chuckling. Bruises littered her neck and chest including a dark bite on her left jugular. Angling his head, he smirked at the dark finger-shaped marks on her thigh along with some nail marks on her waist and hip. At the though of nails, he felt the soreness and throbbing of where she clawed at him. It felt like a type of signature she left on his devious hide, very much like the bruises he placed on her. Ownership pressed into flesh.

When she shifted against him, her groin pressing more firmly against his for a moment, he fought the urge to groan. The coarse hair of their sexes no longer wet but now covered in a stickiness from their releases. At home, he would rise from the bed to wash himself, returning to the bed to wipe her as well, an act both caring and erotic. But drawing in a deep breath, Adam allowed a low animal rumble to roll through his chest as the air remained heavy with sex, sweat, and them. He was glad he was not so courteous to either of them last night or this morning. He lifted a hand to her cheek, brushing way a few tangled strands before smoothing a path from her shoulder, down her arm, through the dip of her waist, over her hip and down between her thighs.

A gentle moan escaped her lips as his fingers slid between her nether lips, brushing over her still sensitive nub before rubbing against the outside of her sex in an almost soothing manner. After a few moments, she shifted closer to him, raising her thigh further up his, spreading herself to his ministrations. “Mon amour?” she asked, her voice hoarse and sleepy. Adam pressed soft butterfly kisses to her lips several times. She whimpered slightly with each which in turn made his smile grow wider. 

“Cheri,” he sighed, kissing her nose and watching as her eyes finally opened. Sleep fogged hazel met his pale blue and he knew she would need several strong cups of coffee to fully rise for the day. Shifting his fingers, he teased her nub with the edge of his thumbnail and watch the light spark in her eyes and alertness fill her features. “I would keep you abed, make love to you the entire day through to see you fall apart then wake so beautiful in my arms,” he confessed in low voice. Belle’s hand slid down his arm to his wrist, grabbing ahold of it. Initially he thought her to stop him but instead, she shifted his touch slightly and her breathing stuttered as he found what spot she needed him most.  

So Adam continued, “Spend hours worshiping at your mouth, your breasts, your belly, and your cunt.” He watched her jaw drop and her eyes roll back as he pressed one finger into her and found that special place once more. A few firm rubs and hot wetness washed over his hand. Her hips rocked against him, her sticky curls and fresh moisture brushing over his already hardened manhood.

Pressing his cheek firmly to the mattress, he slid his face beside hers and began to kiss and bite at her ear. Removing his hand from her, a pitifully soft whine escaped her lips as she tried to kiss him back, body rolling against his with need. Sliding his hand beneath her thigh, he raised it up and away slightly before settling her knee near his waist. Pulling his face back, their eyes met in a heated gaze as he lined himself up at her entrance. Sliding in slowly, they both groaned quietly, more like a breath of air being forced through a small space than actual noise. When he could go no further, he spoke in a harsh whisper, “I would tell every courtier, prince and princess, their royal pains-in-my-ass themselves to fuck off so that I spend the day fucking you.”

With a snap of his hips, she almost cried out before his mouth pressed urgently against her own. When he pulled back from the kiss, he nodded slightly towards the door. Belle nodded at their unspoken code to remain as quiet as possible. A series of gestures and looks they needed to establish in the days leading up to their marriage to keep from being caught in compromising situations and something that expanded afterwards when even God and country encouraged them to copulate as much as possible to make heirs. 

“Would you tell them that, my prince?” she asked in a harsh whisper. “Would you tell them that your wife’s cunt required your constant attention and affections? That you must spend the day with your cock fully sheathed inside of me?” Adam growled low again, moving against her harshly. To his utter shock and delight, Belle had a mouth so filthy at times he knew soldiers and sailors would blush to hear her. A devious look crossed her face before she brushed her lips against his. “Would you tell the king that fields in the south needed watering and that the fruits of the north needed your expertise?” The reminder from the courtiers last night had him thrusting harder against her. “That my gardens need tending and only you can do it?”

“God damn right I’m the only one,” he growled, watching as she laughed at a faint volume before grunting at his motions. 

“They have lovers and whores whom they pay to pretend. You, my husband, my prince, _my king_ , will never give me reason to pretend. Not when I can’t move without feeling your touch, without thinking of your smile, without your voice sending me into ecstasy,” she whined at the end of her whispered praises. Rolling onto her back, she bit the back of her hand to keep from crying out.

“Will you keep me with you today, dearest?” He whispered in her ear, biting the lobe and tugging to make her whimper. “When we finish, when all that is left is what you carry within your quim?” Pressing his face to her neck, he fought the tension growing in his belly to finish asking, “Will you leave me, leave us, to wet your thighs and drip down your legs? To soak your bloomers and stockings and stain your petticoats?” He whimpered, “Please my love, tell me if you will.”

Pressing her cheek to his, she gasped, “Yes, yes, yes, my love, my own heart.” Grabbing around his shoulders, she pressed a hard kiss to his temple. “Fill me up so I can wear you all day and all night. Fill me up so when you touch me again tonight, I am still wet from you this morning. Fuck…Adam!” Her mouth fell open in a silence scream as hard contractions rippled through her muscles and she found her release. Her body and her words triggered the release he fought against and he pressed his face to her neck to mute his moaning. 

Despite the sun outside, cooler winds rattled the windows, the slight draft rushing over their skin causing goosebumps while soothing them both. They lay for a while, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Lazily kissing each other in the hazy post-orgasm period, they whispered more sweet nothings and praises, prayers and hopes, lovers’ dreams to each other. It was easy to forget where they were and how many pairs of eyes would be upon them today. That they would be separated until just before supper, he to the lords and other princes, she to tea with the princess and various ladies before a walk in the gardens.

But even as today’s busy schedule sank in, he refused to give up a second of his time with her. 

Instead, he withdrew his softened manhood from her, placing his hand down between her thighs and pressing against her sex. Rubbing his fingers against the still quivering flesh, he grinned at her gasp that turned into a laugh. Touching his forehead to hers, he growled, “As best you can, mon ange, keep me with you.”

Belle grinned back, brushing her lips against his as she answered, “All day, mon amour.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Um…”

“I know.”

“We can…well, maybe just…but no...”

“I know.”

Plumette sighed, gathering Belle’s now brushed locks in her hands and getting a full survey of her neck, chin, jaw, collar bones, chest, ears, and lips. And she wasn’t even going to comment on the condition of the rest of her friend’s body. The fact Belle already put on her chemise, stockings, garters, and bloomers in a rush before exiting the bedroom said enough towards that.  Her honey hazel eyes met Belle’s hazel green ones in the mirror, her expression mixed of sympathy, amusement, and honesty. Belle gulped down her third cup of coffee and heaved a sigh, “I know. God help me, I know.”

Plumette nodded. “I’ll get the face paint.”

Belle let her head hit the vanity surface in defeat.

 

* * *

 

 

“Umm...”

“Not a word, Lumiere.”

“No, no, no, of course not.” He brought over Adam’s overcoat, watching him wince as he stretched his arms back to pull it own. Bringing over the brush, he performed a quick once over to get any fuzzies or stray strings off the material. “Still I must say—“

“What happened to not a word?”

“It’s not a word, it’s several.”

“…fair enough. What several words do you have to say?”

Lumiere came around to face him, straightening the lapels of the coat.  He gave him his trademark grin before saying in a courtly whisper, “At least she is kind enough to mark you where I can hide it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was surprised to get access to a few excerpts from romantic novels from the time period I'm basing this in as well as a few from about 50-60 years after. Humans have always been horny and I for one am thankful for having as many Danielle Steele writers then as there are now.


	3. If You Could Only See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Adam spend the day apart and learn many things from the court.  
> Adam learns there are allies even in these judgmental walls.  
> Belle learns there are allies to be made while simultaneously gathering blackmail material against her husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is no sex in this chapter. Sorry! It's a lot of plot and getting us moved along to more sex. Of which there will be plenty in the next chapter. This one really allowed me to show where Belle and Adam fit in court while opening up avenues for them to both grow up and grow together.
> 
> So forgive the lack of sex, s'il vous plaît?
> 
> Merci.

Adam wanted to die.

This statement was both entirely true and entirely untrue.

He wanted to live a long life, sleeping curled around his Belle, spending every day with her hand in his, one day holding the library ladder so she can grab that book, another day holding their child while she gets well deserved sleep. Simplicity somehow within the clamoring world his title made for them.

But death at this point did remain a favorable option, especially after yet another hunting story started up. Honestly, taking a hot poker to his ears seemed like a heavenly reprieve.

“Do you hunt much yourself, my Prince?” Comte du Conflans asked him over a glass of wine. “Fine country I hear up near your estates. How is the stag?”

“I…have not much hunted since my recovery. Though what meats are produced from the hunting is quite delicious.” Adam left out the part where Lumière personally locked up all the guns in the stores below, taking down the two ornamental ones in the study as he went after Belle relayed the story of Gaston’s attack. Though he continued to enjoy meat, more so on the rare side than before, he never intended to hunt again. 

“Ah, and have you taken to riding again? I remember you being such an accomplished rider as a child,” the Duc du Coigney reminisced. The old lieutenant general barely sat up under the towering wig baring down on his head but smiled at Adam nonetheless. “And your mother loved her horses so.”

Despite the sudden twinge of sorrow at his mother’s mention, he smiled back gently. “Being on horseback remains ever a pleasure. And I am fortune-struck man to have a wife who finds the same pleasure in the ride as I.”

“Ah, yes. Your lovely wife.” A swarm of spiders skittering over his body would have produced less disgust in him than the voice of the Duc du Nevers. A man who’s father never inherited the title due to paperwork not being properly filed, he filled the room with such annoyance due to his nasally voice. “And how is the Lady Belle enjoying her stay with the King’s court?”

“She is greatly honored to be invited to join us here,” Adam managed to say without grinding his teeth into powder. Nevers made it quite clear prior to their arrival that he stood firmly against Adam’s marriage and even lent his name to spearhead the non-recognition of the wedding itself. Mentally pressing himself to be a little more congenial for the sake of those not currently giving him grief, he laughed softly. “Though now, I must admit, I will have much on my hands to change our own gardens now that she’s seen the rose gardens of Versailles. Our much smaller rose colonnade will not satisfy her for long.”

“Already changing the gardens, my Prince? So early on, don’t you think?” Nevers needled at him, crinkling his face up ever so slightly. “When does his majesty have you scheduled to meet regarding the, uh, matter at hand?”

Adam felt his blood pressure rising again, briefly curling the hand laying against the plush couch into a fist. His mind formed one set of words, thick with several languages worth of curses, while his mouth pushed out another more polite set. “His majesty has yet to extend us a time to meet. We dine with him this evening, however. _My wife and I_ are both delighted to have received that invitation.” He stressed the words not just for those present but for how much it meant to him to be able to say it aloud.

“Shame to say you’ve yet to receive such an invitation yourself, my dear duc?” a man wearing a less ridiculous wig and even less powder teased. The Comte du Toulouse watched almost gleefully as the duc shrunk down ever so slightly. Shifting towards Adam, he gave a faint eyeroll at the now put-off Nevers. “I will also be joining the King this evening for dinner. Glad to know the company will not be so droll as usual, cousin.”

Adam gave him one of his old grins - full of promise and deviousness - and watched as the comté smiled even wider. A legitimized bastard of King Louis XIV, the man held good esteem at court. His claim and recognition came at no surprise as his mother, Madame de Montespan, wielded her intimate control of the King like a fine weapon and essentially secured her children’s legitimacy before their conception. But his military prowess and his position at Marshal of France during the Spanish Succession made him not only respectable to the King but the people of France as well. Adam also know very well that the Comte avoided the court as much as possible, preferring to stay away from the intrigues. 

“My lords, I fear my time has already been relegated elsewhere and I must leave you now,” Coigney announced at a courtly volume. Slowly rising, he leaned heavily on his walking staff but still managed a bow worthy of the highest rank. Adam rose just after, nodding to the men in the room before stepping up next to the older man.

“I must also away now. May I join you, my lord?” he asked of Coigney who gave him a soft smile.

“Always a pleasure to have company, my Prince, especially yours,” he responded, turning to see that Toulouse also rose up and joined them. “My, my. I must be looking more like Death’s escapee to have so many worried for my wandering.” Appropriate exiting courtesies completed, the trio moved out into the wide halls of the palace and away from the perfume soaked men still stationed in the room. 

The walked without speaking for some distance as Coigney led them towards one of the few windows open in the halls. There, he sank onto the bench, waving off their offers to help him. Sighing, he scratched along his forehead where the wig seemed to have irritated away the powder on his face. “I don’t have to tell you, your majesty, that you are quite the easy target right now,” he started, turning a calm gaze up at Adam whom nodded after a moment. “Your wife, whom I hope to meet before you return to Montmorency and your estates, did very well last night before the court. Make sure she knows that if she’s not already aware. Even my wife asked to meet the lovely wife of Prince du Condé.” Adam gave a soft and thankful smile at his praise. “But, as you are well aware, many here want you to fail. For this to be dismissed as a passing fling, your marriage to be swept away, and your wife turned back into a country girl to be shipped off to a convent. And I can see,” he paused, touching Adam’s now clenched hand to calm him, “anyone can see that this will not happen by you.” Resting back, hands wrapping around his walking stick, he smiled. “And it will not happen by me either.”

“My lord,” Adam started, pausing when Coigney raised his hand.

“When is the last time someone wanted a marriage that didn’t include careful dissection by lawyers, bankers, accountants, this cardinal, that minster? Never. I’ve never heard of it. I’m going to be eighty in a few years, my Prince, and I’ve not heard of actual love marriages. Ever. Even among peasants and the poor. But you, your highness,” he grinned, a few broken teeth showing, “You have the chance to do what the fairy tales tell us can happen. You can marry for love.”

Adam felt his chest knot as he managed to quietly voice his concerns, “And what of the King and responsibilities towards the court for marriage? Do you not share the opinion that I should be married to someone of rank?”

Toulouse laughed under his breath and shook his head, bringing attention to him. “My dear Adam, wily cousin of my younger days, I did not accept the invitation to Versailles this month not to see you succeed. If anything, the court is simply waiting to see someone have it out with the ministers in a round of fisticuffs. They seem to demand more and more incestuous matches every time I turn around. Want to turn us into those Hapsburgs, marrying first cousins and the like.” Gripping Adam’s arm firmly and giving him the limb a shake, he laughed again but it came out as sad, if not mournful. “My own love, my Charlotte, fell out of reach because of rank and privilege. Though I cannot and will not speak cruelly of my wife, Marie, I cannot tell you the heart break I endured when told I could not have the one I desired most.”

Soaking in it, the anguish in his cousin’s eyes, Adam wrapped his hand gently around his cousin’s wrist, squeezing sympathetically. Nights filled with dreams of Belle being just out of reach, falling from the ramparts, the bullets in his back striking her instead; now the politics of his world provided very real threats. Though in an instant, he would hand over his title, his lands, all the wealth, and power, the King could very realistically throw both of them in the Bastille, punishment for disobedience and law breaking. Looking at the man before him, he found himself seeing all of the things that could go wrong. 

“Don’t falter now, my Prince,” Coigney spoke softer than before, nodding at the pack of courtiers passing by, tittering like a pack of rabid birds. “The whole appear to be of the same opinion but truthfully, they are bored. Bored beyond recognition of it. You are simply the biggest news to happen upon the court since…good Lord, I can’t actually figure out which scandal happened most recently. Was it that du Morney affair or the…the uh…”

“The house of Orleans ordeal,” Toulouse supplied, dabbing under his nose with a perfumed handkerchief as the wave of a thousand smells passed by. A cool breeze through the window provided sweet relief and the scent of the gardens. The clouds passed away and the sun began to show brightly. The men took in the brief pause before Toulouse continued, making firm eye contact with Adam, “I do not plan on staying long after you depart this place but I intend to do so after the papers of nobility are firmly in your wife’s hands. I do not think he will do more than give you grief, probably have to sweeten him up with some lands or gold. The coffers are oft more empty than partly full given the number of wars we seem to be fighting, so anything with financial gain would be most favorable.”

Nodding, Adam couldn’t help but feel such gratitude towards both men. “My lords, I…” he fought to find words.

Coigney waved him off, rising once more. “No need, my Prince. I simply ask that you not give up or despair in this matter.” Stretching his limbs, he pointed towards the hall. “Now, shall we rejoin the river of snakes?” Tottering ahead, he greeted another courtier that dipped a bow to him, leaving Adam with the duke who seemed to have swept away the sadness in his features in favor shaking his head with a smile.

“You know, I attended your court once, just once, before you fell ill,” he reminisced. Adam felt his blood temporarily freeze but the duke laughed. “I could scarcely imagine doing the amount of…planning and…interaction you seemed to do with some many of your guests. But having seen you, even just now, and how you speak of your wife and even your home…you have changed, haven’t you?”

Adam choked slightly before laughing under his breath. “I desperately hope so. I’ve gone through much to get to where, to whom I am right now.

“And Belle?”

He smiled at his cousin. “She has made all the difference in my world. I do not deserve such a woman.”

“Well, while I recommend saying that last part over and over again for the rest of your days, I would not say it so loudly here,” the duke whispered to him in a courtly fashion. “You’ll need to keep claim on that precious creature loud and prominent.” Stepping back, he gave him a salacious wink. “Not as if last night didn’t make that quite clear. Didn’t hurt your cause to have Lord and Lady Arnaud in the apartments next to yours. She claims the best hearing in the kingdom. Though I don’t doubt she was swimming deep in the wine last night, claiming to hear a roar like a wild beast from your rooms.”

Adam felt his neck and face turn red but felt no shame or guilt. In fact, he grinned widely at his cousin who felt familiar enough to use his name so he would do so in return. “My dear Louis, I rather say I wasn’t quite policing my own voice. But a wild beast? She must have been hearing things.”

 

* * *

 

Belle peered briefly at the mirror to her left, schooling herself not to react to the image she cast. It took a good half hour of soaking with the poultices on her neck and chest to even get the color to start to go down. But even with that, Plumette employed years of doing makeup for Adam to trace, coat, powder down, and repaint until only faint discoloration showed. Belle felt more like a newly painted plaster wall than herself. The saving grace of her makeup came in the form of a skin-toned powder that Plumette dusted over the thick white along with a pale pink that was ever-so in fashion at court. She resembled less of a marble statue and more of a flushed porcelain doll. However much she detested wearing heavy makeup, her closest friend made sure to send her out into court still looking human. Plumette was a true artist and Belle thanked God for her help and support.

Catching said friend and savior’s eye in the mirror, she saw Plumette nod to indicate that this was the room she needed to go into. Taking a steading breath, she gracefully turned in her dress, allowing one hand to brush over the side of the skirt while the other held tightly to the large ornate fan presented to her that morning. It briefly hid her face while providing relief from the smell.

Despite the cooling temperatures of autumn, the Queen required most of the windows be kept closed, worried about the health of the royal children being affected by chills. This meant every stench, every ounce of body odor, the smell of every food and fart kept inside, swished between thick skirts and heavily perfumed bodies. Belle fought not to choke every time she passed by a clustered group of the thickly pasted and powdered women and men soaked so heavily in the latest perfume.  Plumette sprayed a light amount of jasmine and rosewood water onto the fan as well as onto Belle herself. 

Upon entering the doorway, she made brief eye-contact with her hostess and dipped a respectful bow. “My Lady,” Belle spoke in courtly soft voice, rising calmly and slowly, practiced to perfection. 

“My dear Madame Belle. Or should we say, Princess du Condé?” A tittering laughter rose up from the various other women in the circle. Wearing a sweeping gown of deep lavender with the most ornate lace she’d ever seen, Auguste de Bade, known by friends as Jeanne, smiled not unkindly upon Belle, eyeing her with a soft but critical eye. As _fille du France_ , her deciding glances weighed heavily on how the women in the room would regard her in the future. From beneath her wide brimmed hat topped with one of the biggest feathers Belle ever saw, the Princess continued her study. Belle fought down the flush threatening to rise up around the still throbbing bruises on her collarbones to her now heavily painted neck and face. 

Jeanne cocked her head slightly, a teasing look about her handsome face as she inspected the now heavily powdered and painted face before her. Belle felt every bite and bruise on her body throb with embarrassment, even the ones on her hips and thighs. “Well, which title is it then?”

“His gracious majesty has yet to bestow such a title upon my person. I am Belle, your majesty, at your service.” If Belle’s father were here, he’d applaud her steady voice and even tone. She even patted herself on the back in success. The room, however, remained quiet and judging. Long moments passed before the Princess gave her own gentle laugh and sighed.

“Join us, Belle, and take a proper tea with proper women,” she invited, gesturing towards the empty chair at her own table. Belle dipped another curtsey and moved with sure steps around the many expansive skirts to be seated. Within moments of resting, servants carrying trays laden with ornate porcelain filled the remaining space of the room. Whispering conversation resumed and much to her relief, they seemed to be more focused on prior conversation than on her entrance and presence.

The warm, rich scent of tea leaves along with the rising steam from the boiling hot water soothed her and briefly, Belle found her thoughts drifting back to Villenueve, taking tea with Mrs. Potts in the kitchens next to the roaring fire. Her heart cramped in her chest with home sickness. Plates of tea sandwiches came first along with appeared to some of the most intricate sweets and pastries she’d ever seen. Pastel pinks and green covered treats with white icing that twisted into beautiful curls and flower shapes beckoned her to taste but still she waited until the Princess took from the plates first.

It took a great amount of restraint not to jump when she felt her hand being gently squeezed. Looking down at her lap, she saw the pale silk gloved hand of the Princess pressing against her own. Slowly meeting the eyes of the woman next to her, she forced down the tremble in her arm. One bad move and a whole world of trouble for her and Adam. But to her surprise, she met a pair of sympathetic green eyes. “Breathe, madame. For I want dearly to question you about my cousin’s change of heart before you faint,” her majesty whispered with a grin.

And with the sudden release of pressure in her chest, Belle let a genuine smile fill up her cheeks. “Thank you, madame.”

“And Belle?”

“Yes, madame?”

“Take a deep breath, my dear. Don’t want you fainting and giving the court even more to talk about.” The princess’s wink allowed her to settle a little more comfortably into the chair.

 

* * *

 

 

“What I find most shocking is that he just up and decided not to host anyone from court any further,” an older stouter women stated, eyes directly on Belle. “The balls were garish and hedonistic in a way to make most devils blush but that he declined the his Royal Highness’ request to instate courtiers once more to the castle is almost offensive if not the height of bizarre.” 

“Can you blame him, my dearest lady?” Jeanne shrugged, nipping at the apple pastry she balanced between two fingers. “Years of being sick, requiring such a long recovery time. In honesty, hosting is an exhausting task.” She glanced over at Belle with a laugh. “Madame de Ventadour has been watching over our family since his Royal Highness’ birth. Saved him from the madness of physicians and their lances.”

“Madness is correct, my dear madame. They bled a dauphin to death then pretended not to be the cause!” she whispered fervently, not raising the volume of her voice above what was court-acceptable. Leveling Belle with a steady look, she warned, “If ever a physician says ‘let us bleed him until he feels better’, you slap them across their liars’ mouths and throw them off the estate!”

“I’ve yet to have a physician suggest that to me but I will keep your words close to heart, Madame,” Belle responded gratefully. The Madame’s face went blank for a moment, as if deciding on what exactly to make of the younger woman’s statement before a look of calm pride crossed her features. With short nod, she turned to the other woman next to her to whisper something else. 

Jeanne squeezed her hand beneath the table again. “You’re doing just fine. Keep breathing,” she whispered with a smirk. Turning her hand up, Belle gently squeezed back. The princess’ eyes roamed around the room as she took a sip of her cooled cup of tea. Placing it down without a single clink of cup against saucer, she cast her gaze back over to her. “They know you’re swimming upstream, my dear girl. The fact that you are a commoner now married to the son of a man who, at one point, held more power than any general or dauphin, makes you both a curiosity and an interloper. There are many people here who are watching, waiting for you to fall and fail, not strictly because of who you are but for who your husband is.”

Belle suppressed the tremor of fear that itched its way up her spine. Her voice came soft but steady, “I know that he…wronged many people. In his life before.”

“Yes, in his life before,” Jeanne snickered with a cruel turn of her lips. “Do you know of his life before, Belle? Of the women? Of the men? Of how he convinced the court of the Countess’ daughter being ‘ill-equipped of mind and worse of body’ when she wanted to marry Lauzun? Or of his words against his aunt, Princess Charlotte, before she married his uncle? Many fights within the house du Condé over that particular event. What has he confessed if anything to you, madame?”

Belle felt her stomach churn but swallowed down the nausea. Several days before their wedding, she found Adam sitting in the chapel of the castle, praying feverishly. When she placed her hand on his shoulder, he nearly jumped out of his skin before looking up to her with tears streaming from his eyes. He confessed to her what she called ‘his life before’. He spoke of the bodies in his bed, in the halls, the gardens, the carriage — wherever he desired. Of the alcohol and snuff fueled nights, of parties well beyond dawn with no regard for the servants or the cost to the people. Of trying to convince the Queen herself to join in their debauchery with the intent to fuck her himself or at least one of his companions. The long days of hearing that his father lay ill, screaming at the staff to bring his ‘insolent brat of a son’ before him while Adam spent his time drinking at the hotels in Paris and prolonged hunting parties on other estates. And of his joy of knowing his father died without being able to strike another verbal or physical blow at Adam, miserable and alone.

Under the light of candles barely there for the length of their time burning, he took her hands in his, knelt at her feet, and begged her to forgive him, to let him still marry her despite his evilness and cruelty. He kissed her fingers and told her no child born to them would ever feel the pain his father inflicted; of his undying loyalty to her and her alone, no mistresses tucked away in private rooms or hotels. “I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy of you,” he sobbed as she cradled his head that he pressed into her lap. When she pulled him into her arms, kissing his face and reminding him that a decade plus as a beast trapped in his own home, forgotten by the world seemed punishment enough, he shuddered at the memories while holding her like a lifeline in a storm. She left a note on his bedroom door for Lumiere and Cogsworth to let him take the day to rest due to fatigue but stayed with him, letting him curl around her body, ear pressed to her breast so her heartbeat would keep him calm as he slept.

When her eyes met Jeanne’s once again, she hoped the love she felt for Adam, the forgiveness he still longed for filled her gaze. “He confessed all to me, your majesty.”

For a moment, the princess stared back, skeptical if not completely doubtful. But the strength of her memories, of his ever present fears, showed through and Jeanne leaned back with understanding in her expression. The princess gave a short nod and a servant arrived within a few seconds to refill both her and Belle’s cups with new tea. As the steam rose up, familiar and comforting, Belle reached of the small honey pot sitting before her and added it to her cup. Gently stirring, she made sure not to let the little spoon scrape the cup itself before gently tapping the edge to get the last drop of tea off and putting it down.

The princess cleared her throat slightly and Belle quickly looked up into those spring green eyes. “You add something sweet to something bitter, madame,” she smirked without meanness. “Let us see if that will make things taste better. For there is much bitterness all around you.” She nodded over Belle’s shoulder. Turning slowly, Belle met the glittering gaze of a woman wearing verdant green dress and an ornate hat with yellow feathers, white, and blue flowers. As concern washed over her, she felt Jeanne’s breath at her ear. “May your honey be so sweet as to make so many things less bitter.”

 

* * *

 

 

A strong breeze caused the soft blue material of her skirt to billow and float up briefly, airing out her petticoats and long bloomers. Though not considered necessary in the court, Belle wore the long-legged bloomers she stitched herself as a type of comfort measure. Though she also used them today as a slight defense; her earlier promise to Adam also brought about most likely unfounded fears about wet stains on her skirts. For now, all she felt was the slight sweaty stickiness and a reminder of her very pleasant morning. She flicked her fan a little fast to quell the rising flush on her skin. The rest of the relief from the stuffy indoors came at the behest of the Princess Jeanne whom insisted on a long stroll to the Grotte des Bains d’Apollon, quite a distance from the palace itself. Plumette followed at a short distance with other ladies’ maids but Belle desperately wished to be arm-in-arm as they would be back at home, whispering together about the flowers or rumors or teasing each other. 

But just as she remembered fondly on their conversations at each other’s elbows, she felt her arm being taken up in a sudden and tight hold. Her head snapped to the right, almost giving her whiplash as she came face-to-face with the green bedecked woman that stared her down at the tea. 

“My dear madame,” the woman started, a wicked smile pulling up her high cheeks even more, “I believe you are walking alone. A very big no-no for first timers here at court. What would happen if someone lead you astray from the path. Versailles is a big palace with even bigger grounds. I fear you to get easily lost.”

“I…I thank you for being so considerate as to worry for my welfare,” Belle smiled back gently, recovering from her initial stutter. “Will you walk with me to the grotto then?”

“Oh, it would be my upmost pleasure,” the woman continued to grin, turning her face away from her to watch the path before them. Belle did the same, letting her arm better settle into the woman’s hold as they continued. Their little retinue finally turned off the main avenue and onto a smaller but still gorgeously maintained path, passing under sculpted boxwoods and by flower beds overfull with late summer blooms. Several minutes passed with the sound of various ladies in hushed conversation, waving to this person and that, never truly taking notice of the natural beauty so heavily maintained for their pleasure. 

When the woman, still nameless, remained silent, Belle took the initiative and sighed quietly. “Madame, I take it you are acquainted with my husband?”

She faltered slightly as the woman brought them both to a sudden stop. Deep brown eyes framed by similar colored hair seemed almost luminous in the daylight and accented green of her hat. The woman’s eyes widened slightly and jaw dropped just that much before she gave a snorting laugh and a grin filled her cheeks once more. “My, my. You are quite to the point, madame, aren’t you?”

Belle didn’t miss a beat, “You’ve been glaring at me since tea, have yet to introduce yourself, and seem quite on edge about something. I’m guessing it’s something my husband has done to you or against you. Which would it be, madame? For I’m sure what you have to say or ask you assume to scandalize me with and I assure you, I’ve heard most of it already.”

This time, the volume of her laughter went well and above what was courtly acceptable, catching the attention of those around them briefly. But their own conversations took president so Belle kept at firm eye on the woman still holding tight to her arm. As the woman drew a deep breath, wiping at a non-existent tear from a corner of her eye, she fixed Belle with a surprisingly delighted look. “Forgive me, madame.” Relinquishing her hold, she stepped back and give a soft curtsey, “I am Adele-Alexandrine-Charlotte, countess du Soissons.” After rising up, she watched as Belle carefully and respectfully returned the bow. “And you, madame? I’ve heard such mixed things about your official title. What is it?”

“Madame Belle du Villenueve, wife to Prince Henri-Jules-Louis-Adam du Condé,” she recited, continuing to mentally eye-roll at the length and breath of her husband’s actual formal name. A brief reflection of the night she made him swear their children would not have such ridiculously long names and his inability to stop giggling as she rattled on the endless names of other royals came to mind. “His majesty has not yet given allowance for me to adopt further title at this time.”

“Ah yes,” the countess remarked, nodding to herself. “He’ll make Adam jump at least a few more fiery hoops before allowing for them to even discuss that. I hope you are ready for a protracted stay here with us in court.” At the slight loss of strength in Belle’s shoulders, the countess cooed and patted her arm sympathetically. “Expectations, expectations.”

“However long his majesty wishes us to stay, we will stay,” Belle answered judiciously, hoping her face firmed up more than her resolve. Adam swore only two weeks at most but given how things seemed to run at Versailles, a month or two didn’t seem out of the question. She really didn’t relish the idea of not being home before the harvest. Taking up a slow pace once more, she watched the Countess for a moment then asked again, “Did you want to speak to me about anything directly, madame?”

“Several things come immediately to mind,” she replied with an air of mystery in tone. “How much has our dear _le prince_ told you about his…activities both here and at his own court?”

“Enough to make us both want to call the priest and take confession,” Belle responded immediately and with a slight laugh. It was the same thing she teased her husband with once he had time to compose himself against his own anguish. He choked on laughter much the same way the countess did. She gazed at Belle once more, approval slowly replacing the teasing in her expression.

“Madame, you are quite straight to the heart of things!” The countess took up her arm once more and leaned in to whisper, “But I fear you have only heard this from his majesty’s point of view. Perhaps a more detailed perspective would help you to see how much different he appears to be today.”

Belle knew it this was coming. Too many people he mentioned were at court, too many faces put to names swirling about them when they arrived for her not to eventually be on the receiving end of even more tales of his lecherous past. She vaguely remembered him mentioning the countess, referring to her by a nickname instead of her full title; though whether she was a past lover or someone he scorned, she could not recollect. 

Placing her hand on top of there the countess’ held onto her elbow, she leaned in towards the woman who watched her like a hawk. “Would you be the one to provide such a history to me? Before someone else with less honorable intentions arrived to do so?”

The countess chuckled under her breath, “There will be very little involving your husband’s honor in this conversation, my dear.”

“I don’t expect it to. I fully expect to have enough blackmail on him to get the changes I want to the gardens with little fight from him,” Belle teased. 

The countess burst out laughing again, holding onto her to keep from toppling forward. They both ignored the looks from other ladies including the Princess. “My dear future _la princess,_ ” she wheezed between laughs, “I think by the end of this stroll, we will be the best of friends.”

While Belle highly doubted that, she smiled and let the countess begin.

 

* * *

 

 

His heart stopped. Then, as if suddenly full of cement, dropped into his heels. Eyes wide and voice trembling, he asked, “You’re sure?”

Lumiere’s face painted a thousand apologies and sympathies all at once as he nodded. “One her ladies in waiting was in the hall, saying how her mistress would be with the Princess this afternoon. I saw them myself as they passed out off the main avenue in the gardens.”

Adam didn’t even look to see if something was behind him as he sank down, thankfully onto the edge of a chair. Pulling off his wig, he ran a nervous hand through his sweaty hair. “Oh sweet Christ…”

“I asked about her, eh, the Countess, just to inquire as to how she fared. Apparently after the fall through with Lauzun, she married Jean-Baptiste-Louis, the Count of Soissons, about three months afterward. Apparently he had been pursing her since before the whole…thing. And when one fell through, he stepped up and her parents very quickly agreed.”

“How…how has she been…with…” He gestured vaguely, face down towards the floor.

“They have four children, all healthy and alive. Her mother passed away after the third child was born, happy to see her first granddaughter. He does not keep a mistress, prefers to stay away from court, and she’s only here because…” Lumiere paused, face scrunching up.

“Because I’m here.”

“I do believe so, my friend,” he sighed, taking the chair across from him. 

Adam sighed as well. “Dear God, I thought…I thought I was prepared for this.”

“We cannot know how our fears will play out until they do,” Lumiere consoled him. Tilting his head, he gave his prince and, proud to say, good friend a look over. “Have you…have you talked to Belle about this?” 

“Yes,” Adam sighed again, sitting up with both hands on his knees to steady himself. “I mean, I’ve gave her as much detail as she wanted. Names and things and…I didn’t want her to…to…wake up the day after our wedding and realize she married a lecherous libertine who’s reputation only remained intact due to blood lines and money.” His nerves began to get the best of him as his hands shook against his legs. “I thought she should at least have the chance to get away.”

“Oh, my dear prince, if she didn’t leave with the wolves and everything else that happened, I’m fairly certain your life before the curse wouldn’t scare her off,” Lumiere smiled with confidence. Rising from the chair, he walked over the side board and poured a full glass of wine. Making sure Adam’s hand didn’t cause him to spill it, he watched as the man slugged it down with a single gulp. “And if you have been upfront, it’s now just old news being told from a different mouth.”

“But what if she…what if I missed something? Some detail or a name or a place and that makes all the difference?” He felt like a ridiculous child, fearful and pining all at once. “What if Belle doesn’t want me if she hears it—Oww!” Adam practically jumped from the seat when Lumiere gave him a solid but friendly slap on the back. All at once, every scabbed over nail line, reddened skin now a darkened bruise, the soreness of well used muscles came throbbed violently. Rolling his shoulders back and shifting within his jacket, he shot his chuckling companion a glare. 

Lumiere shrugged it off, placing a much gentler hand on his shoulder and trying not to laugh. “Do you need further reminder, my friend?” Adam wanted to be annoyed but really, faced with the fact that he spent a good part of the morning with men watching him with envy and women shooting him covetous glances while whispering about he and Belle, he growled with a slight smile on his face. Devious wonderings of if her thighs remained sticky crossed the front of his mind.

Upon a shake of his head, he allowed Lumiere to take back the wig, adjust the loosened hairs before placing it carefully back upon his head. “Then may I suggest we make our way to the games room? I hear the Baron d'Astorg is still as atrocious with gambling now as he was back then. Maybe you can get another case of that wine we all enjoyed.”

 

* * *

 

 

Belle stood, several lines marring her forehead as she tried, so desperately tried, to reconcile it. For all her intelligence and street smarts, this one effectively puzzled her. The countess, who now all but demanded Belle call her Adele or Addy, watched with a continued amusement. 

The beautiful grotto, it’s flowing waters so clear and cool, reflecting the changing colors of the trees and foliage, held little appeal as she stood there, literally unable to visualize it. 

She placed a hand on her hip and stamped her foot slightly in frustration before looking back at Adele’s face. “How?”

“How?” the woman responded with a chuckle.

“It just—how is that even possible? I mean,” Belle desperately grasped for words, wanting so much to rub her forehead without worrying about smearing her paint. “I just can’t figure out, you know, physically, how that can be done.”

“I know, my dear, it seems rather impossible, doesn’t it?”

“Well, I mean, if you knew what you were doing, with a lot of practice—“

“And were very limber,” Adele supplied.

Belle nodded, “And very limber. With a large enough area to prevent someone from falling and breaking a hip or an ankle at the very least…” She tapped her foot in continued annoyance at her inability to visualize the scene in her head before sighing. “Well truthfully, it is well and beyond my own experiences.”

“I take it you did not…explore much before your night in the marriage bed?”

“What, beyond Adam? No, I did not,” Belle responded without hesitation. “I never felt the need or the urge.” She did not want to add that the pool of available men in the village seemed more like a drying puddle and the patch of mud filled with the dying fish and insects made up Gaston.

“Bless your innocent heart, Belle. I practically jumped everything that I could once I realized how good it felt,” Adele whispered wistfully. “I’m lucky for the tinctures my lady’s maid forced on me every morning once she found out. Nothing to say a bastard would ruin me but I’d rather not go through the hassle of papers to get them legitimized or ship them off to a convent somewhere.”

Belle kept her composure but marveled at the almost lack of emotional connection she expresses should she have borne a child from one of her liaisons. Even under the scrutiny of the close-minded villagers, she would have packed herself and her child off to another country rather than send them away or deny them. 

Her hand absently pressed against her stomacher, wondering briefly about their many times together in the last day. Normally, they abstained at the peak of her cycle, Adam perfectly content to wrap her up in his arms all night. Or, if they felt the urge, both of them using their mouths to bring about mutual completion. But the thought of a child, their child specifically, growing inside of her, a perfect blend of her looks and intelligence, his heart and charms, it made her less anxious for the arrival of her courses. Though both of them very specifically wanted more time together, that she drank a tincture daily in addition to keeping track of her cycle, she couldn’t help but feel a spark of joy to see if they would have a child come from this trip. 

Adele cooed at her, mistaking her prolonged silence for either embarrassment or innocence. “I know I’ve been quite forward with you. Not too much, eh?”

Belle gave a soft smile, “I may be a country girl from what I would definitely classify as one of the smaller minded villages. But we are not short on scandal and liaisons. I’ve seen one too many sudden nieces and nephews come into people’s lives for it not to be just a happy coincidence. But that is life, is it not? The choices, good or bad, and the fall out from either just pushing us along each day.”

“And when we feel it was more a mistake than a good decision?” Adele asked, her tone almost daring as her she focused her knife-sharp gaze at her. It took a moment for Belle to gather her wits against such a strong look. Even then, she spoke slowly and with conviction, a trait her father taught her so long ago when butting heads with the villagers.

“Then it is a mistake we do not make again. Sometimes they follow us, sometimes haunt and torment us. But…for all that they do, mistakes are lessons that we take with us and must eventually make up our minds about - do we let them rule us, locking our hearts and minds away forever to prevent them from ever happening again? Or do we take away from it a lesson and move forward, careful but not isolating ourselves from the chance to make a similar choice but with a better outcome?” She watched the Countess’ face slightly fall, eyes looking misty. Even as she remembered Adam’s specific instruction that she need not get involved where he owed apologizes, she felt sympathy to the woman before her and decided to act.

Walking to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Adele, she raised up her fan in a move Plumette taught her. A signal to the woman next to her to do so, which she did slowly, before leaning in to speak at a much lower volume. “I cannot hazard nor would I try to understand the damage that has been done. There is much cruelty and pain afflicted without much care as to the outcome. It can be light a slight burn of the fingers, too close to the candle flame, or a forest fire that has left nothing alive as it goes. But I can say this,” she turned her head slightly, meeting Adele’s now watery eyes. “He has suffered greatly for his sins, will continue to feel the guilt for the rest of his days, no matter how much he makes amends. But he speaks of his own torment in terms of knowing he cannot truly heal what he has done. Your pain was caused by him and his pain was caused by him. If you never forgive him, that is completely your right. If you wish to curse him to the end of your or his days, then that is your right. There is no time table for forgiveness and no requirement for it at all. I do not ask you to forgive him. I want you to know that he is here and if you desire to speak with him, to yell and rage at him, he will not stop you. He is guilty of his crimes and he willingly accepts the consequences of them.”

Adele blinked, several large tears tumbling down her cheeks, streaking through her face paint as they fell. The sun came out from behind the full and puffy clouds, making the rippling water sparkle so cheerfully as the fallen leaves floated across the surface. Birds flitted across the skies, chirping and singing as they went. Cool and gentle breezes ruffled skirts and rattled the grass they stood on. A low murmur of conversations around them created an absence hum in her ears. Belle almost moved away but felt the woman next to her slightly lean in to her shoulder. 

A quiet grew between them as the water continued to cluck and chuckle as it flowed out of the caves and over the rocks into the pond below.

“You know Lauzun went into exile shortly after our engagement broke off?” Adele spoke in an almost absent tone. “Had a fit in front of the King for not becoming head of the artillery, ended up in jail, almost became…feral with this insanely long beard, causing problems with the guards and other prisoners. Took the woman he then courted giving up all this land to the King to get him out and still he resisted. Ended up going to that great dreary fog of country called England for him to start making his money back.” She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “If it were me…if I had married him as I wanted, it would have been me, giving up almost everything for a man so self absorbed that he refused to bend a knee and accept that he wouldn't get his way by the king.”

Belle said nothing, giving her companion time to finish her thoughts, but did offer her handkerchief to her. Adele nodded in thanks, dabbing at her eyes and cheeks. Sniffling quietly, she briefly studied the material in her hands, tracing the intertwined red and white roses in one corner. “I—I took more of a hit to my pride then my body. Adam was,” she huffed and waved her hand slightly, “He was at the very peak of court intrigues. I don’t know of a single woman my age that hadn’t either tasted his lips or slept in his bed…more of the former than the latter though there were plenty in the latter. I made the mistake of mentioning my affections in his company and then next thing I knew, Maman practically dragged me by my ears into her quarters and slapped me hard enough to rattle my teeth. How dare I even have affections? How dare I desire to make my own matches without their consent and planning? How dare I jeopardize our place at court? Lauzun was the King’s favorite but that meant doing anything without expressed consent meant all of us lay at the mercy of a man already prone to whims of cruelty.”

Turning to face Belle, she placed a firm hand on her elbow as if to ground them both in this moment. “I will never say that I should thank Adam for his actions. I spent many a night heartbroken, shamed by my parents, laughed at by the court and the King and Queen for my desires, before being sold like a brace of geese to a man I barely knew. But,” she sighed, briefly looking at the linen still in her hand, “I will admit that my intentions with you were less than honorable. You knew that from the moment we met, of course, far too intelligent for that kind of intrigue. But there is something of saying it out loud that makes it…better in a way, don’t you think?” At Belle’s nod, she continued, “I hold nothing against you, madame. Your husband’s actions are somehow always supposed to be attached to you, staining you, but if anyone has eyes in their head, even if they are blind, they’ll know you are nothing like he is. Was, as you say. I will take your words to heart and consider my next actions carefully.”

Belle felt a slight weight in her chest lift and knew she could offer or do no more for Adele and Adam. Accepting her handkerchief back, she watched the countess shake out her shoulders and take notice of the water once more. “It is rather lovely out today, isn't it?” she remarked.

“I do love these kinds of days,” Belle answered just as quietly.

A few minutes passed as the absorbed the faint heat of the sun as it fought against the clouds.

And then, as a lot of times it does, Belle’s brain found its way back to an earlier train of though. “But still, how can someone do…that?” she asked aloud. Adele’s face scrunched up in confusion before a look of recognition came across her face and she grinned. 

“Which part — the leg or the back?”

“Both! You would have to lack parts of your spine or half of your leg to do it! And for…” Belle leaned in to whisper, “For one night of making love, that’s quite a large sacrifice!” They burst into a fit of giggles between them. Adele took up her arm again and started leading them towards the another set of ladies. “I’m going to be stuck on this for days,” Belle slightly bemoaned.

“Well, madame, let me introduce you to another tainted soul who may be able to help answer this question,” Adele started, pausing as they came upon three women whom appeared close in age to both of them. “This is the Lady Camille du Savoy,” a woman in a pale green and cream striped dress dipped a bow, “The Baroness Marie-Claudia du Morey,” the one in a solid dusty rose gown with massive white feathers nodded, “and the Lady Isabeau d’Avignon.” The last wore a stunning cream dress with thousands of little bundles of flowers littering the material and a high neck collar of lace. “I call them my Devious Trio.”

“And acts if she isn’t part of our little circle too,” Camille shot back with a teasing smile. They all laughed and Belle joined in quietly, unsure of exactly what to say. The baroness spared her the further insecurity by leaning forward and saying in a stage whisper, “We’ve been waiting quite a while to get the chance to meet the woman who finally got the Prince du Condé into a marriage bed. Tell me, is he still as much of a pain in the ass as he used to be?”

Belle was taken aback and stuttered on her words for a moment. “I’m…not sure? I don’t really know him from before his illness and have no real place to judge beyond what I’m hearing.”

“Then from what you’ve heard then, my dear. We are all very well acquainted with his earlier days.” Isabeau yawned slightly, apologizing and glaring at the sun briefly as if it were to blame, before fixing her with a raised eyebrow. “Has he changed much?”

“Well…from what I’m hearing…he has changed. Greatly. At least, in his interactions with everyone in court.”

“But not in the bedroom,” Camille teased in a sing-song voice. Belle’s blushing threatened to melt off her makeup and the women around her giggled to see it. “Come, come, dear girl. I hope you not to be such a prude as to forgive some bedroom taunting. He does still have quite a reputation and it sounded like he’s maintained certain talents between the sheets…and the thighs.”

“Which brings us to why we came over,” Adele said, rescuing Belle from dying from mild mortification. Despite being more open minded than most of the small village of Villenueve, the amount of blatant sexual discourse here frankly blew her mind. It bothered her very little but that came after the initial shock. “Remember that time the Spanish Princess came to visit?” All of them nodded, sharing devious smiles. “Well, remember that one lady, the one with the red feathers in her hair…and that position she pulled off in that performance before going into the Prince’s bedroom…”

“Oh dear God, yes I remember that one!” Isabeau cried out before hushing herself. “What of it?”

“Well, you see, I was telling Belle here about it and we began to discuss the logistics of how to do that.” Their smiles all fixed upon her and she felt as if she swam with a pack of sharks, bleeding from an artery in her leg. “What do you ladies think?”

 

* * *

 

 

By the time they left the grotto, Belle was certain of two things.

The first - apparently with enough stretching and practice, you can tie yourself in a knot and still have sex.

The second - the ladies provided her with no shortage of stories about Adam’s earlier years, especially his sexual escapades. And as his wife, she now had a list of things she really and truly wanted to him to repeat with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you all think? Please leave me a note and let me know! I've loved all your comments and messages from my previous chapters!
> 
> All of these titles are real, most of the male characters are historically real but time wise a little flip flopped for my own use (I'm not a fan of Lauzun so he had to suffer by my writing so ha ha motherfucker stop me now!). The locations are based on actual titled areas in France during the 18th century. The Princess is a real person as well but again, I'm fudging time lines for my own use.
> 
> Next chapter: blackmail material that Adam has exactly zero issue with paying for, especially given the type of demands and that they are coming from his wife aka let's-break-some-furniture sex!


	4. Turns Them To Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation leaves Adam shaken.  
> Plumette worries for Belle's sanity but offers some sound advice for her situation.  
> A piece of furniture is greatly injured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +9000 words, 14 pages typed.  
> This chapter has wreckt my fingers for the last two days.
> 
> As promised, more sex at the end of the chapter. But it's really just the wind up for the pitch. I'm planning some nice curveballs for you.

Eventually, even his own nose could only bear so much. While the country came with it’s own unique bouquet (mostly animals and the large amount of manure they all produced only with seldom bathing persons), the combination of perfumes and body odor overwhelmed him and Adam took to the gardens. As much as he wanted to check in on Belle, his courage continued to be a fickle thing so instead for going to Apollo, he headed to the Orangery. Late season meant most of the oranges and their flowers were gone but the faint citrus scent still pervaded the air. Reaching the far end of it, he found a stone bench that faced out onto the small pond and fountain and relaxed for a moment. Despite distance, the sounds of comings and goings at the chateau faintly reached his ears. Closing his eyes, he took steadying breaths and focused instead on the world immediately around him. 

Birds in the sky. The rustle of trees, shrubs, flowers, and grass. The repetitious fall of water upon itself as the fount flowed. Faint warm and brightness as the sun fought to shine through thickening clouds. Cool winds heralding the change of season.

As he stared out into the distance, watching the play of the clouds and patterned sunlight over the grounds, Adam reflected on the last two days. So far as he witnessed and was informed, Belle was performing her part admirably, sweeping several courtiers off their feet with her charms and kindness. While Plumette spoke only in the highest regard of them both, the servants, while apparently quick to remember Adam’s old ways, transported the information back to their masters and mistresses about how loving and caring Belle worked to make sure all of her staff could read, her desires to open a school for girls, the inventions that made life easier at their own estate. Lumiere only heard good things back from the other men of his rank, dismissing the more poorly constructed rumors and whispers whenever he heard them. It was an all-out campaign to make sure that they appeared in good standing with the courts while keeping as much of his past dust and dirt from staining Belle’s good name.

Memories of this place, even this particular part of the garden, bubbled up in his mind. Like a tarry black concoction of drunken antics and cruel words that continued to threaten his already thready self confidence. Anxiety washed over him like waves to a shore, cold and burning with salt, and he fought the urge to leap from the bench to find his wife and take the next carriage back to their home, with or without his Majesty’s consent and damned paperwork. The thought of his Belle being trapped for any length of time with the Countess and any number of women he fucked and fucked over made his heart race and sweat break out on his brow. What would she come back to him with? How would see feel about him now? Despite Lumiere’s assurances, Adam knew his own past too well to see any good outcome from their stay here.

But as fears threatened to choke him, he grabbed a fistful of his coats in each hand and felt the odd lump on one side. Briefly confused but gratefully distracted, he reached into the pocket and drew out the object. His heart throbbed, stemming the tide of anxiety and guilt, as he held a braid, no longer than his middle finger to his wrist, made of rich walnut hair. A pair of soft blue ribbons tied either end, allowing for the loose hair to faintly curl. Mrs. Potts assisted Belle to coat it in a thin layer of wax to keep the hairs from eventually falling out. Even the faint sunlight brought out the faint red strands buried within. Rubbing his thumbs over the surface, he recalled when she gifted it to him on that long road to the King.

 

* * *

 

 

_Half way between their home and the hell that is Versailles, his nerves started to get the best of him. He’d managed so far to prevent Belle from ever seeing him go into a pure panic, stemming the tides of it so it came out as sleepless nights or nightmares instead. But as they passed a road marker pronouncing so many leagues until the chateau and a thousand pairs of judgmental eyes, he lost all strength and resolve._

_She went from sitting across from him to next to him to essentially laying across his lap, caressing his face and smoothing his hair. He curled over her, cheek pressed to her chest, desperately trying to hear her heartbeat over his own pulse pounding through his ears. Minutes passed, turning into a quarter than a half hour but she never ceased her soothing measures, whispering affirmations of her love for him and memorized passages from their favorite stories. Tears dripped from his eyes down his cheeks to wet her warm skin and he felt her hold tighten, her shoulders shake as she cried herself for him. When at last the panic ceased its horrible hold over him, he felt both relief and shame. Who married a man who couldn’t keep himself together when it was just the two of them, let alone before the entire French court?_

_“Belle, my beautiful, wonderful Belle” he choked in a hoarse voice, trying to clear his throat to speak while it still attempted to close up from the emotion._

_“My kind and loving husband,” she responded in a soft whisper, brushing his tears away. One hand briefly dipped into the pocket of her skirt, shifting around for a moment before retrieving what she desired. She held up a small piece of creamy linen, rolled and bound up with a piece of pale pink ribbon. “Here,” she explained. Taking his hand, she placed it in his palm and folded his fingers to hold it. “I was going to give this to you when we got through our first day at court but I think now would be a better time.”_

_Maneuvering his arms to better hold the gift, he slowly pulled the ribbon away and unrolled the fabric. Within, a cut braid from her hair, ribbons of her favorite color (she insisted many times that she liked that shade of blue before she knew it to be the color of his eyes) binding it up. She sighed, brushing her hand through his unruly hair. "Maman made one for Papa when he would travel without us. To remind him of her being with him at all times, even when far away." He held it like a true holy relic, a piece of his own living goddess to carry with him, before pocketing it and pulling her into his embrace._

 

* * *

 

 

He kept it with him everyday since, a firm reminder that no matter what, she existed and would be there for him forever. Bringing it to his lips, he kissed it with reverence before returning it to his pocket. Taking more steady deep breaths to gather up his strength and courage, he made to stand before someone cleared their throat behind him. Turning abruptly, he thanked the good Lord for the width and strength of the stone bench beneath him when he met the fierce and terrible glare of the Countess du Soissons. The green of her clothing made her into some angry woman of the jungle, a predator who knew the prey before her stood no chance. 

He thought the apologizes he still tried to give to his family at the palace were hard. This was effectively the first person outside of that immediate and aware circle to cross his path whom he definitely owed a great deal of apology to.

When his lips began to function, he went to speak, to greet her…somehow, her hand came up and gave the international gesture to keep his damn mouth shut. He kept silent, watching as a mild shock passed over her face that he actually did, and kept himself completely still. She took slow, measured steps towards him with each footfall counted by the crunch of the fine stones on the path. It seemed like an eternity passed before she came within arm’s length of him. Still being seated, she towered over him, her hair casting a shade over her face and making it difficult to truly read her expression when up so close. But he kept his eyes on hers, watching the delicate veneer of control just above the fiery light of anger. Her chest rose and fell with almost forced, even breaths. Lit sticks of dynamite held a fraction of her potential to explode. And Adam braced himself for whatever she did next.

Even with preparation, he heard the loud crack before he felt the sudden shock of pain from her hand striking him across the cheek. He registered the additional sting of metal from a large ring on her hand as an afterthought. His neck, still strained from his sudden turn before, now ached in protest another abrupt change in position. Still, he remained very cautious and continued to be silent.

“Turn around.” He must have expressed in his face the same confusion he felt in his mind at her command. But her stoney expression did not change as she repeated, “Turn. Around.”

He did as he was told, switching around to face the pond once more, focusing on breathing through both the throbbing in his face and the stuttering of his pulse. Without realizing it, his hand slipped into his pocket and gripped at Belle’s braid, his rosary and crucifix to help keep him from harm. A swarm of tiny birds swooped and circled above the rippling water, a soothing sight in such a tense situation. 

“I’ve thought,” she started, her voice like a whip against his ears, “for so many, many years about this moment. For all of those nights after your words to my maman and papa.” Adam felt small voice in him want to rise and correct her as she forgot him just like everyone else but he beat that down mercilessly. “From the time I was sent back to our estate and my cold childhood bed to the first nights some stranger called me his wife and took me in his own bed.” He felt her harsh breathing without them even touching. “When people asked me how I was, I knew they wanted to see what I planned to do against you. How, after you accused me of being simple and insipid, of being ignorant and, yes, my favorite of your description, ‘honestly too dumb to live without someone wiping the drool from her mouth for her’, I felt being locked away until they got the marriage contract with Soissons and packed me away to the nearest church to be married.”

Her hot breath raked over his ear as she leaned to whisper, “Do you know how I felt, my dear prince? Do you know what prevailing thought ran through my head?” At his silence, she leaned in further, her lips brushing over the shell of his ear. “Betrayed.”

Standing back up, she paced a short line behind him as she continued, “After I covered for you with the countess and her sister, for the baron’s wife, for the baron’s _brother._ How I laughed off threats from my parents to expose you to the King for your little game against the Queen and her faithfulness to his Majesty. When papa threatened to go to the King with proof of your tete-au-tete behind closed doors with the Princess the night before her wedding, I burned the letters to save your ungrateful ass. And what did I get in return? Being called a simpleton, the entire court scorning me for wanting my heart’s desire, my parents calling my their ‘grand disappointment’ and my own siblings shunning me…unwilling to even take letters from me until after I was married to a man of good reputation and honor.” Even as her voice trembled, every word struck him like another blow to the face. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes but he fought them back; he wanted to make amends for his life before and the charges must be laid out for the punishment to be meted. “Do you know what it felt like…to have no one? To be truly alone without a friend in the world to care beyond my servants who practically forced me to eat, to dress, to bathe, for I barely had the strength to do so myself? To be labeled a mistake and shunned?” 

Never had the sorceress’s punishment felt so appropriate.

Her pacing continued, the sound of her fan whipping back and forth furiously a soft tone against the crunch of stone. “Life has been resoundingly better since then. No matter your words, and my husband thankfully believed none of it, for he took me on my own merits from before that time. He brushed off my desire for Lauzun as childish adoration for a man with power and nothing more. And I have been quite well since our wedding. I have four beautiful children, all of them advanced for their ages both in stature and intelligence, all of them healthy and thriving. And it surprises me how much you and my children are alike. For you see, they reflect all the things about their father - his kindness, his forgiving nature, his gentleness - that everyone sees and you…you do the same exact thing from your father.”

Adam prayed she would simply stab him in the back, twist the blade, and leave him to die at those words.

And when her steps stopped, he figured her to do just that. But her sigh said otherwise. “And then, after a decade of supposed illness, I receive word that you are coming back to court…with a commoner for a wife.” Her low laughter dropped into him like buckets of rotting fish in his stomach. “That you refused the King his right to place someone from this court into your own. That you are keeping the palace essentially closed off to all but invited visitors. That, of all the things I have ever heard spoke of Prince Henri-Jules-Louis-Adam du Condé, this was not one of them — you refused the King’s invitations to come to court. Not once, not twice but five times before he had to use your own wife against you to get you here.” A folded fan came down on his right shoulder, tapping to each of her words, “The devil himself would be impressed by your insolence.”

Raising the fan up, she whipped it open once more and resumed fanning herself, staring out onto the lake. Moments passed in tense silence and he felt the desire to drop to his knees and beg her to make this end when she drew in a hard breath that she released on a soft sigh. “And then, dear prince, I found out your wife and I would take tea together today,” she explained quietly, deadly. “This was the moment, the opportunity I waited for. Ten years of being unable to get back at you, to throw painful words in your face and break your heart and then you unknowingly served up  your wife like a pretty little tea cake.” Quiet laughter escaped her, the tone suddenly sad. “And even with all of that, lined up and ready for me to take down…your impossible luck came through.” Her hand fell to his shoulder and she squeezed tightly. “A commoner, not worthy of a roll in the royal bedsheets let alone a marriage, a title, for her blood line to mix with yours and create progeny. We all thought her to be the highest of manipulators, top tier social climber, putting those who scaled mountains to shame. But then…then came the worst, most damaging, most damning part about her.” Leaning into his ear once more, she whispered, “She’s wonderful.”

Throwing her head back with a sarcastic laugh, she paced once more. “Considerate, kind, humble, intelligence, open minded, a little on the side of innocent and easy to blushing. But so witty and charming, even her royal highness demanded she take lunch with her in private tomorrow. And for the faults she had, and trust me, we all have looked, I can’t put her to fault for them beyond her difference in birth. Like a farm girl would know all the nuances of courtly life when she only married into them three months ago.” Harsh breathy laughter escaped her before she fell silent and still once more. Birds chirped off in the distance but Adam’s mind barely registered them, so consumed with anxiety and pain at this moment. She faintly asked, “Do you love her?”

“With all of my heart and soul,” he responded in a firm but quiet whisper.

“And you proclaim to have both? All along?”

“I have found them after much suffering and searching.”

“All of the sudden? Once you have such pretty little thing in your bed?”

“In the last decade of pain, being locked away and forgotten.”

She laughed harshly, “You? Suffering and forgotten?”

“Tell me, madame, when did you start to remember me once more?” She paused her faux laughter and Adam continued, “Was it only when it was announced I would come to court?”

“I’ve had a busy life of mine own, _your highness_ ," she spat. "I didn’t sit around for ten years pining and raging about you and only you."

“I hope that you haven’t. I hope that, despite all of my words and actions, that your husband has been as good to you as you say. That your births were without complication and undue pain. That your health and good fortunes improved so vastly without me in your life that you only remembered me when the gossips said I was coming. I hope that your mother and father realized how none of it was your fault and came from me alone and if they didn’t, how much I would give to make sure they knew their daughter never did wrong. That it was a spoilt brat of a prince that wanted nothing more than to see Lauzun ruined and didn’t care for your tears or heartbreak.” His chest stuttered as he took several deep breaths to control his raging heart beat. “That I am so sorry to you, Addy. Sorry for the pain I caused you, sorry for the heartbreak, sorry for any punishment you received unduly for my crimes. That I will do what I can to make it up to you if that is what you want. Or I will leave your presence and never curse you with mine again. Tell me what you want, Addy, and I will do my best to grant it to you.”

Silence came upon them once again, stretching out impossibly. Even the sounds of the world around them fell away, the wind and the animals almost perceptive of the need to give space. Adam felt his throat closing and resisted the urge to tug at his clothes for more breathing room. He tried to relax his now aching back and shoulders slightly but to no avail. Until she did something, said something, he remained still as a boulder. 

But just as he felt as if this agony would go on forever with no relief for either of them, a flash of blue came across his field of vision. On the carefully sculpted bushes before them landed a tiny bluejay, so small he thought it to be an infant for its lack of size so late in the season. It hopped about on several branches, tilting its head this way and that, before singing what sounded like a whistled scale and taking off towards the pond and fountain head. Watching it dart about the falling waters, disappearing once past the fount itself, he felt a slight absence of tension and pain for it’s brief visitation.

Until he felt the gentle press of hands on his shoulders. From the corner of his eye he saw white silk gloves with green vines and bright pink flowers embroidered on them. 

Her breath blew across his ear once more. “I’ve waited ten years for this moment, Adam. Ten. The sting of you has never fully gone away.” He felt more than heard her difficulty drawing breath. “You said anything to make it right, within reason.”

“Anything I can do, to make this right, you have my word,” he whispered back, keeping his vision fixed on the horizon as she dragged out the moments as if each one weighed a thousand pounds.

“Then I know you are not the man I once fucked in a corridor by the King’s bedchambers. And while I have a request that I know you can and will see through, I want you also to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

She turned her head even more, her lips at his temple. “Keep that girl safe,” she whispered fiercely. “Love her, honor her, cherish her, give her the world and the heavens as mine own husband promises and delivers to me. Give her everything that you are and all the things you’ll never be. When she bears your children, praise her as if creation flows from her. Do these things until the end of your days and if she goes first, you will honor her as if she were the Virgin Mary enshrined.” Drawing another harsh breath, she finished, “Do you promise me that?”

“With everything that I am, until the end of my days,” he answered with all of his heart behind the words. 

“Then…we are done here,” she whispered quickly, kissing his temple before turning abruptly and marching across the gravel back towards the palace. Rising up from his seat, he barely caught his balance before turning to see her.

“Addy,” he called in a hoarse voice. She turned and he saw the watery surface of her fierce eyes.

“Nothing you do or say can make things perfect again, Adam. Nothing. But if you have suffered where I have found joy, if you are repentant and willing to work to make things right, then I all I ask is what I have asked of you now,” she explained in a shaky voice. “Forgiving you is my right. Mine. And you only asked how to make it right not demand for forgiveness to be bestowed. And…and while it hurts, I know what your wife said, what your servants have said of your time.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she continued, “But I cannot carry this pain in me forever. It feels like a tumor, some unnatural growth you planted there and all I wanted, all I ever wanted for it to stop. But I see you now. I hear the pain in you, the guilt. And whatever has happened, whatever it is that has laid you bare to God and a guilty conscious, it is punishment you desperately deserved. But mark my words, my dear prince.” Her determined footsteps lead her right up to his face, her hat nearly knocking his forehead for their proximity. “You harm her, you cross her in any way, I will know. And I will interrupt his majesty’s nightly activity with his mistress and whores to expose you to everyone. Every secret, every lie, everything you’ve done. I’ll ruin you without question. Do you understand?”

“Entirely. And I will never let it come to that, you have my word. From me today, not from me ten years ago when my words meant nothing,” he responded, voice half strong and half afraid. Without thinking twice, he pulled out his handkerchief and held it up for her to use. Her fiery eyes flicked over to see it before she snatched it from his hand and dabbed at her eyes and cheeks. 

“Good,” she said finally, handing him back his dampened silk before turning once more and heading away from him. “I’ll send a list to you of what I desire in recompense shortly. For now, I think both of us need time to prepare for dinner this evening.”

As she maneuvered the beautifully cut greens and bushes, he sank back onto the bench, catching himself from falling back. His heart still pounded, his lungs felt stiff and each breath a fight for control, tremors running over his whole body. Closing his eyes, he wondered briefly if this was how all of these moments would go and, fleetingly, if he would survive them? His fingers trembled as they pulled Belle’s braid out of his pocket once more. He clasped it between his hands and kissed it for good measure. He briefly picked up the smell of her - rose water, lavender, chamomile, books, ink, Belle - and his heart slowed a little more.

The breeze picked up once more and for all that his clothes clung to his frame, he felt the blessing of cool air over every inch of his body.

 

* * *

 

 

_“And, and, and! I must not forget myself! There was the Baroness, you know, the one who always wore the purple ribbon on her wrist. Well, I heard about them in the chapel loft…”_

 

_“…and her skirt was ruined. Perfectly ruined. Showed right where she was kneeling in the grass and all!”_

 

_“Now was it Francis the son or Francis the nephew? Oh god, I never get them right…might have been both to be honest…”_

 

 _“…I swore he almost blushed but under all that paint, excellent work from his servants that, all I saw was a brief glimpse of red by his neck, shirt still slightly undone from_ _where she held onto him.”_

 

_“The entire room reeked. Combination of a long night’s activities and breaking every bottle of perfume on his dresser. The two bottles of wine on the floor and two women in the bed didn’t help either…”_

 

_“…it’s the reason why sitting on the fountain’s edge was banned for a while.”_

 

_“…then his Majesty made it a rule - if you break the furniture, you must pay for it. At least it was just a foot stool.”_

 

_“It apparently had to be said that just wearing stockings and shoes did not count for being clothed.”_

 

_“…well, they both had their wigs and shirts intact if that counts. Covered in mud but still intact.”_

 

_“I mean honestly, how much champagne can one person drink? Well, that’s what we all kept thinking until we realized he was filling a tub with it…”_

 

_“…somehow managed to get a whole jar of spiders from the fields, tucked into the countess’ wig no less!”_

 

* * *

 

 

Plumette started to worry. 

For the last hour, every woman in the court who passed by and knew someone already sitting with her got introduced to Belle. The spectacle of the commoner wife quickly turned to a rousing game of ‘Who has the most scandalous story about the Prince du Condé’. And every one of them, from the young who never met him to the matronly who purposely avoided his company and companions, came with something new and more shocking to say. Courtly manners indeed, the snake pit never hissed so loud.

Her eyes darted over to see Belle, surrounded by women who took her hand or elbow, tugged on her sleeve or skirt to gain her attention, and felt relief in their shared look. A slight expression of exasperation and a soft empathetic smile from her to her mistress, her close friend was met with a sweet smile of understanding and mild annoyance at the women around her. She prayed that Belle managed to keep her cool demeanor about her just long enough for her to get her away from these rabid animals. She tried not to worry about their foaming mouths and drool staining her skirts along with all of the other terrible things littering the floor of the palace.

Versailles was disgusting. Back in Montmorency, where the castle lay almost to the very edge of the provence, the servants had the decency to use the commodes installed in the back halls and their quarters to relieve themselves or at least go outside by the stables and garden sheds. Within a few minutes of arriving, she watched at least three people just simply squat in a corner, shit and piss, then rise up, shaking out their skirts or pulling up their trousers before going on their way. She wasn’t unfamiliar with this practice, lord knows it essentially is how most castles and estates work but even the halls themselves reeked of feces and piss. The excess perfumes nearly made her gag with each breath.

And some idiot architect redid the chimneys in so many of the rooms that with any slight wind, soot and dust came flying into the rooms, coating everyone and every thing in its wake. Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts always took such care to make sure coverings on every surface when they cleaned or repaired the flues. If there was a draft or a chimney that coughed out soot, they blocked it off and had it repaired immediately. But even as she lamented the never-ending cycle of dust and re-dust at home, here, she desperately wanted a broom to sweep out the hallways. Or maybe just redirect a fountain to spray them down. Or just spray down the women and men who never seemed to bathe. 

Her eyes quickly shot over to Belle who held up one of the rosewater and jasmine soaked handkerchiefs to her nose while laughing quietly at something the newest addition to this party told her. Belle, who this morning seemed rather quick to dismiss even a morning wash up but readily wore her stays, appeared to be more in character now. She knew, as did literally everyone in the palace by now, that she and the Prince were very active last night and this morning. But even in the mornings where she would assist her to dress, sympathetically poking and soothing the newly blooming bruises, Belle normally washed herself thoroughly. She knew, from Belle’s halting admissions, that the Prince cared for them both after the act. But why the change now? She watched as the princess, and that’s her title therefore she will use it paperwork be damned, walked with an uneven gait in the morning that improved by the afternoon. Even as she assisted her to use the commode later, holding up so many skirts and layers to keep them clean, she watched Belle wince from discomfort but never complain.

Whatever it it was that changed her mind, she would not stand for her to go another day without washing. Mentally she recalled the name of the woman she would need to speak to for fetching a bathtub in hopes of getting both her and the Prince to wash up completely. No amount of gold-framed mirrors could change her mind - Versailles disgusted her.

But the palace did come with some helpful items, such as the clock that struck just then, alerting all in the halls that the evening was coming fast upon them and those looking to rest before supper tonight needed to go do so now. The process of changing from one dress to another a feat unto itself. The small gathered circle seemed to hum and sigh, breaking apart one by one until Belle managed to make it over to her.

Plumette dipped a curtsey to her before following just behind her as they made their way back to the room. She watched Belle’s fingers play nervously over the handle of her fan and desperately wanted to hold her hand, to offer calm and security to her. But courtly etiquette demanded her be a servant and subservient in all things. So she hoped her presence helped until they could go behind closed doors.

The walk took forever and Plumette mentally swore she’d never complain about the stairs up to the west wing ever again. When at last they maneuvered the busy hallway of the Grand Lodging and made it into the room, she held her breath long enough to firm shut and even lock the door. Turning, she leaned against the door and watched as Belle pulled the securing pins from her hat, dropping them and the large thing to the table carelessly. When their eyes met, both of them moved and embraced. It felt as if Plumette were hugging a little sister, not a woman being essentially paraded about for the pleasure of the King and court for the sake of a title. As she felt the tremors in Belle’s body, she mentally cursed at the Prince but knew there was very little he could do even after trying everything to keep this from happening. But it was only their first full day at court. With many more stretching before them. Would their beautiful country girl break under the strain? Plumette did not envy women of rank especially those like Belle who had no idea what kind of world she entered into.

“I think…I think that went okay?” Belle’s faint voice both stated and asked.

“I think if there were any more women around you, I’d have to call le prince to rescue you from their clutches.” Both of them chuckled at that, pulling back. Belle gave a watery smile, exhaustion seeping into her face from under the paint. “We will wash you off and reapply everything before you go tonight. Thankfully, we have several hours and you can get some rest before the next round of excitement with meeting the King.”

Belle blew out a harsh breath, itching at the top of her curls. “God, we have that tonight, don't we?”

“Fear not. The King often changes his mind at the last minute and dines petite couvert with just his brother and his mistress. We may have some luck tonight or so I’ve heard from one of the chambermaids.”

“Does he…take meals with his mistress often?”

“Oh yes, quite often. I hear that she is quite the conversationalist and the King treasures her company over even that of most of his children.”

“Really? What does…what the Queen think of this?”

Plumette gave her a look. “That she’d rather not be harassed by the King’s constant need for his ego to be inflated. Not that any woman, queen or not, should be expected to be thrilled by the presence of a mistress but they do serve to keep the King entertained so the Queen can go about her day without always needing to be at his side.”

Belle’s unease at the discussion gave Plumette pause. She reached out and took Belle’s hand in her own. “I’m sure you’ve heard enough today to actually make your hair turn white when it comes to le prince.” The younger woman nodded sadly, looking to the floor. “But you must understand something. These are the antics of a young boy, desperate for meaning and love and something good in his life. The entire court is filled with these people, the…the ones so bereft of any kind of happiness that they take sick pleasure in snatching it away from others then mocking them as they fall and cry.” Taking out her own linen handkerchief, she began wiping away at Belle’s makeup and tears all at once. “Do not fear for your husband’s fidelity or of his past. He loves you, my dear, with all of his heart.”

“I know,” Belle sighed shakily. “I know that. I know he loves me and I don’t ever doubt his fidelity. But…” She trailed off, waving her hands vaguely. “He’s used to so much more.”

“Much more?”

“You know…much more experience.” Plumette’s eye brows lowered for a moment before they nearly hit her hairline, her mouth forming a delicate ‘O’ shape. Belle sighed again in frustration. “I can’t even compare to these women…and even the men, in bed. And I mean…he’s always…you know…finished…and he seems very happy when we are together. But what if it’s not enough after a while? What if over time I’m too boring for him? Or he doesn’t want me anymore?” Belle stopped abruptly at the sudden burst of laughter from Plumette, watching as she bent over while holding onto her arm for support.

“Belle…Belle…” she gasped, trying to get control of herself. When words failed, she waved her hand towards the wall by the door. Unsure of what she meant, Belle inspected it from a distance in confusion until her own eyebrows shot up. The plaster, dented and raised up, cracked from where her head smacked against it up to the ceiling. While she briefly wondered if the wall could collapse from the damage, she felt Plumette gather her up in a one-armed embrace. “Ma cherie, I don’t think a man who will grow bored of his wife would risk the ire of the King to damage a wall in his precious estate. Nor would he put such effort into making sure everyone in this god awful place could hear how much his wife enjoyed it.” 

A choked laugh escaped Belle and she wrapped an arm around Plumette’s waist, leaning into her hold. Both of them giggled for a few minutes, allowing the tension in both of them to flow out into the room then beyond through the open windows. Belle kissed Plumette’s cheek and smiled, “Thank you. For reminding me.”

“Of course. I will always be here to remind you that these women are delusional at their best and psychotic at their worst,” Plumette told her, touching their foreheads together. Stepping away, she made a flourish with her hands, “But may I make a suggestion?”

“I would be glad to hear it,” Belle smiled, taking off the heavy earrings she wore and rubbing her ears.

“You’ve now heard the stories, and while there are probably plenty more variations and supposed scandals you’ve yet to hear, I would recommend turning what you’ve used to your advantage.”

“How? Beyond the fact that I probably have enough blackmail on my husband to have the entire garden turned over the way I would like.”

“Besides that, and I highly encourage you to rid us of those horrible topiaries on the far end of the labyrinth because they are terrible to say the least, what I’m suggesting is you use what you’ve heard and…make an education of it.”

“And education?” she asked, trying to keep up.

“Well, if you are worried about a lack of experience in the boudoir, and you have a husband who spent a good portion of his life making everywhere his boudoir…” Plumette grinned wickedly at the sudden realization on Belle’s face. “Turn his experience into your experience, madame. It works both ways too - he feels less guilty for his, let us call them ‘youthful indiscretions’, and you get to find out how talented your husband really is.”

“Behind closed doors?”

“Everywhere you want him to be.”

Belle scoffed, feeling a little devious for the idea sinking into her. “You’re encouraging me to, for lack of a better explanation, to fuck my husband as wild and recklessly as he fucked others in his youth?”

Plumette shrugged. “I believe that men and women are equal despite our physical differences. And where one lacks, the other can educate and help. You are teaching him humanity, humility, love, compassion, and joy. Why not let him reciprocate by teaching you some things as well though they be of a more physical nature?”

Belle turned away for a moment, absorbing her friend’s words carefully. Taking a few steps, she felt the slight chaffing in her thighs, the faint sensation of stiffness in her bloomers from where the stains from their night and morning dripped and dried. As she turned back, an object caught her eye, making her pause as pleasurable thoughts washed through her head. “They said it was a foot stool that they broke?”

“I do believe so.”

With a devious smile, she turned around completely. “Well then…will you give me a hand?”

“With what, madame?” Plumette grinned, her expression of excitement making Belle smile more. 

“With moving some furniture.” The sunlight streamed in through the clouds and illuminated the space where the innocuous chair sat, unassuming of its fate.

 

* * *

 

It took him several attempts to rise from the bench before his feet found strength enough to keep him from toppling over. Once up and not requiring the assistance of several tree trunks and the stone structures on his way to stand, he took the long route to the Grand Commun, preferring to keep outside and in the fresh air for as long as possible. The pervasive smell of a few hundred if not thousand visitors and their bodily functions did not stand well for him and he sought what natural perfumes still remained in the gardens. While still acknowledging all those he past, Adam felt extremely lucky to make it all the way back to their rooms without having to deal with any unnecessary and frankly unwanted conversation.

He passed servants lighting the candles in the halls, a long task that ultimately provided little by way of illumination. They dipped curtseys, mumbling ‘your highness’ and ‘my Lord’ as he maneuvered around them with a soft and pleasant expression on his face. Still a topic of discussion and mystery, he felt their stares on his back and neck, heard the whispers between them as they confirmed yes, it was the Prince du Condé and yes, he wasn’t being a total ass. He kept his eye rolling until he managed to get beyond the doors to their rooms. 

Heaving a sigh, he kicked off his shoes, groaning as they made contact with the cooler carpet. So long going barefoot or with just slippers at home made the whole heels process rather annoying and painful. Shifting to take off his jacket, he noticed the distinct lack of movement or life in the room. Slowly placing it on the chair in front of him, he found only the lit candelabras on the wall, the fireplace bright and cheerful, a bottle of wine and two goblets resting on the table…and a faint light from behind the closed glass paned doors leading into their sleeping quarters.

“Belle?” he called, unsure of what to make of the silence.

“In here,” her faint voice replied from beyond the doors. He felt his heart both quicken and relax as he crossed the short distance, quickly opening and closing the doors as he passed through them. Leaning back, he heaved another sigh and turned to see the woman he desired since they parted in the morning. Came up completely short.

She reclined on their short bed, shoulders pressed against the wall, feet hanging over the edge lip of the bed. Bed mussed hair, curls completely undone, and skin free of any paint or rouge, she looked sinfully comfortable. A literal Venus rising from cream and blue striped bed linens instead of the sea on a shell. Watching him with sleepy eyes, she smiled lazily as she stretched her arms up over her head. The pale white linen of her chemise dragged slowly over her chest, her nipples peaking with the sensation. “You’ve returned, mon chéri.”

“I…I have,” he responded, gathering his greatly frayed wits. “Have I kept you waiting long?” 

“Mmmm, not very long. I did take the rest Plumette recommended.” She giggled as she continued, “My feet dislike such a long time wandering in those confining heels, such a long distance to the fountains and back again.” Her feet sunk out from beneath the sheets, toes wiggling as she stretched them. “I think I need to work them some more before tomorrow’s set of excursions. Especially since we are to hunt on the far end of the estates by the end of the week and God knows how long we’ll be walking then.” 

Sitting forward, she reached with both hands towards him. When he placed his own in her grasp, she leaned down to kiss both sets of knuckles with a kind smile. Adam felt the simultaneous rush of joy from her presence and happiness for her actions. His heart settled more firmly and he made to kneel before her, to take her into his arms and hold his ear to her breast to listen to calming beat of her heart. But as he bend forward, he shocked slightly as she arched up to kiss his chin, then his lips. The kiss came very briefly, much less time than he desired, before she sat back on the bed with a smirk. It was then when he looked down that he saw her fingers, nibble and quick, opening the laces of his breeches. “Belle…”

“I have waited…all day, my love. All. Damned. Day.” Her breathing came harsh and uneven, her words more of a desperate sigh than actual voice. “You’ve been on my thighs, soaking and staining all of these beautiful underthings you give me without my ever needing to ask.” Those impossibly small fingers tugged away the material now uncomfortably pressing against his cock. Freeing him at last, she stroked him slowly, careful to keep eye contact with him. “Adam,” she whispered, breathing over the sensitive skin of him. 

“Please, Adam.” Wrapping her lips around him, she sucked lightly, brushing her tongue over the weeping slit of him, taking in his taste with a soft moan as he moaned loudly. Bobbing her head once, twice, she worked the part of him she couldn't fit in her mouth with her hand before pulling back completely. In the faint candlelight, a line of her spit from his cock to her mouth strung until it snapped. Her chemise hung off her shoulder, a pale breast now exposed with a dusky nipple completely exposed. “Will you do something for me?” she asked, her tone low enough to make him feel a whole new level of desire and passion.

“Anything, my only love,” he whispered hoarsely.

She rose up from the bed, her hand still stroking his cock now wet with her saliva. Their lips brushed, never full enough to be called a kiss but enough to tease him to a point of painful excitement. Her free hand pushed lightly on his belly, walking him backward until he felt the edge of some piece of furniture against the back of his legs. Running the back of her hand up his belly to his chest, fingernails tracing lines through the linen though he wanted to feel them completely on his own skin. Briefly she returned to his pants, pulling them down to his hips. And then, with very little pressure, she managed him get him to sink down into the carefully positioned chair.

First her left leg brushed past his own, then her right. Initially she slowly drew up her chemise but stopped as his hands took over. Apparently his moment of shock finally passed and Adam took complete advantage of her position. Drawing the sheer silk gown over her head, he tossed it somewhere before mouthing a wet path over her neck and chest. His lips wrapped around a straining breast, tugging at the peaked skin while his hands sought out the familiar paths and markings from the night before. Her wet sex brushed and rubbed against his already sensitized cock, making it nearly impossible for him to concentrate on anything but the way she moved against him. Harsh jerks of his own hips against the more controlled roll of her own — in the after glow, he’d realize that she planned this, worked out finite details to manipulate this time in her own favor. But as she took hold of him, guiding and enveloping him in her impossibly soft and wet heat, Adam didn’t give a damn about details.

It had been a long day for both of them and he wanted his wife, however she would take him.

“Adam, Adam,” she breathed as she began to rise and fall against him. He buried his face in her neck, groaning something near her name as he braced his feet on the floor to give himself better purchase. But she took control quickly, her thighs straining against his hips as she rode him harshly. Bracing one hand on his shoulder and the other on the chair back, she threw herself into the motion so fervently, he could scarcely do more than hold onto her. 

The room echoed with the sounds of them - whimpers and groans, moans and cries, the creak and groan of the chair moving on the floors and striking against the wall behind them. It was aggressive, passionate, both of them working through frustrations and prolonged absences with each thrust, bite, and kiss. Her naked form moving against his partially clothed body made the act seem almost like a romance novel — the young maiden laying in wait for her lover, already disoriented from the day’s challenges, taking, demanding of him all the things he offered freely and without question. 

Under the low candles, the sweat on her body shimmered, catching every nuance of light possible to give her an unearthly glow. Her breasts bounced with each thrust making his mouth water and causing him to suck and pull at them with his mouth and teeth. His hands gripped her buttocks which tensed as she moved. The pounding of their hips against each other made the chair rock and creak, begging for respite from the motion. But they gave none, or rather she gave none. Both of her hands held tightly to the top of the chair as she moved faster, the tight coil in her lower belly winding up and up. Adam’s breathing came ragged, his body moving erratically as he fought down his release. He pressed his face to her neck, unable to keep any control if his eyes continued to take in the sight of her.

She gasped, moaning with each motion now, her voice pitching up and up as she felt herself peaking. “Adam,” she whispered before throwing her head back and crying out, “Adam!” at the top of her lungs.

He felt her walls contract so harshly, gripping his throbbing cock as if to never let him out of her body again, and growled her name at the sensation. Bucking hard against her several times more, he felt a slight shift in the earth itself as he found his release in her tight body. Her arms wrapped about his shoulders, her lips pressing repeatedly to his temple and the crown of his head. His hips continued to thrust weakly against her, every last drop of him possible at this time seeping into her quivering womanhood.

A stillness took over the room, a softness in the low light that cradled them as they cradled each other in their arms. Dazed and possibly drunk on her in the afterglow, he leaned back just slightly to meet her hazy eyes. He touched her face then and traced his thumb over her cheek, down to her lips where she kissed the digit so softly. “My love,” she whispered as she leaned into his palm.

“My only heart,” he responded, tilting his head slightly to kiss her, deeply and soundly. When they broke apart, a faint laugh escaped him. “Did you miss me today?”

“Oh, yes. Greatly,” she smiled, pressing short sweet kisses to his lips as she spoke. “And you?”

“I was starving for your company all day.”

“Did you not eat, my love?”

“No food nor wine could slake my hunger for you, dear one,” he whispered, kissing the fingers she traced over his own cheek. She grinned, “Are you satisfied now, dear husband?”

“Never,” he growled, capturing her chin in his fingers and drawing her into another hard kiss. “I will never be fulfilled when it comes to your company, to your very presence.” Wrapping his arms under her hips, he carefully rose up, catching the window sill to steady himself when at full height, Belle’s legs tight about his waist. The motion caused his softening cock to slide from her, leaving a trail of his essence down her inner thighs. Her whimper at the loss made him grin. “But for now, I am a happy man, full of his wife as she is full of him.”

She barked out a laugh, making a face. “A bawdy joke, my prince? What makes you think my ears mean to hear such things?”

“You married me. You knew the risk of such debauchery before you pledged yourself to me until death do us part.” He laid her down on the bed, following to lay between her legs. “They tried to warn you at home about me. And I’m sure you’ve heard enough here about me already.” He stared down at her flushed face, brushing way the stray hairs sticking to her skin. “Would you take it all back for a better, more virtuous man?” he asked quietly, half teasing, half truly wondering.

Curling her fingers in his hair, she tugged his face closer, brushing their lips together as she spoke, “Never. I married the man perfect for me. All of his perfections and imperfections are mine now and I will never wish them away. Not for knights on white horses or all the flowery proclamations of love from balconies.” Kissing him firmly, she pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “I would change nothing of you, Adam. Not your past, not your present, not our future. Nothing.”

The residual anxiety of his earlier interaction with Adele melted away at her words. He almost flopped against her form, boneless as he wrapped himself lightly about her body. Turning his head, he placed his ear against her breastbone and listened to the steady thrum of her heart as it slowed and returned to its normal rhythm. Her leg curled over his and she rocked them slightly to and fro, happy to hold him against her. He blinked sleepily, eyes finding shapes in the dim light.

“Oh dear.”

“What?” 

“Well…if I’m not mistaken, the earth did not truly physically move while we did.”

“What do you mean?”

“It appears we broke the back leg of the chair, my love.”

Adam felt the press of her lips on his head but did not see the bright smile on his wife’s face.

“Oh no, what a shame.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no IKEA in 18th century France. Sucks to be that chair.
> 
> Anyhoo, I do want the thank the reviewers who have offered me advice and help as well as the reviewers who I keep sending to take cold showers. Some of you are a combo of both...most of you. I love you all so much.


	5. I'm making to attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of respite from the rigors of Versailles.  
> A night of sleep instead of activity.  
> An author begs your forgiveness in the post chapter notes.

Belle heaved an immense sigh of pleasure as the warm water trickled then rushed down her back as she squeezed the sponge. The request of a bath tub in Versailles apparently came tantamount of being accused of being ‘unpatriotic’ and this side of treason. While flustered by the absurdity of their reactions, Plumette assured Belle that a tub would be available later this week for her to have a full bath in. For now, it was hot water in a basin, a soap scented with lavender that they brought from home, a fluffy sponge and standing by the fireside. Two days without even a standing bath left her feeling sticky and mildly disgusted. While living before the palace meant only a quick wash with cold water, Belle did so daily, insisting on reducing her own personal addition to the always lovely smells of the farms and country side. Upon her move to the castle, Belle experienced her first full bath as an adult woman (dunking your child in a bucket of water as a child counted as a ‘bath’ for all intents and purposes). And admittedly, it spoiled her greatly. But she declined bathing in a large tub more than once a month, preferring to wash up in her gloriously heated water closet daily and apply perfume.

 

Adam, having washed up before her, offered her a kiss on the cheek before leaving out to meet with the Duc to discuss something before their dinner tonight with the King.

 

Which apparently had been cancelled.

 

“So he won’t be taking dinner with everyone then?” Belle asked as she sat on the small wooden stool to clean her lower half. She stifled the urge to hiss and bit her lip as she carefully cleaned between her legs, an area very tender and somewhat sore. 

 

“His majesty will most likely dine with the Madame tonight. When he declines a crowd for company, he takes it with her or sometimes his brother. Depends on his moods, I’ve been told,” Plumette explained, emptying one basin of used, cooling water out of the far window and shutting it before she came back to Belle. “I hear that Madame is feeling much better and had been ill for several days so she took to bed. His majesty does love her company so much.”

 

“Madame? As in…”

 

“Oui, Madame de Pompadour, or the Marquise de Pompadour. The King’s mistress.”

 

Wringing out the sponge into the empty basin before dipping it into the other filled with the hot soapy water, Belle absorbed this information. “Does the King prefer her to his wife?” 

 

Plumette hummed for a moment as she used a poker to roll the log in the fire for better burning. “I believe he does. You see, when he married the Queen, it was largely done on his behalf - Kings do not get to pick their wives as we all know. They have those around them plotting and planning and making arrangements for wives who will bring money and power. And when it comes to his mistress, the King gets to chose her company himself.” Turning to Belle and smiling softly, she handed off the wonderful smelling bath ball and placed the last of the hot water before her. Belle worked her face over for a few minutes, sighing happily as she scrubbed off the thick coat of ceruse still on her face. “I’ve heard that she is very congenial, a wonderful hostess, and very well educated. Prefers to speak of current matters and politics than all of the affairs and scandals at court but she does make good conversation for most. Oh, and she adores art and music and plays and theater! She is a patron to many artists and has filled her homes with their works.”

 

“So she does a lot for the King and the court besides…” Belle waved her hand vaguely.

 

“Besides warming his majesty’s bed? Oh, most definitely. I once heard that the only way to the King’s ear was to capture the eye of Madame de Pompadour. But alas, she does not share the King’s bed so much anymore.”

 

“Oh?” Belle’s interest was piqued. “Does he not desire her?”

 

“Not so much that as she has been ill so frequently and after her last miscarriage she has not been well to receive a man into her body. But she is his dear one and from what I hear, the King intends to keep her as his official mistress even without the physical pleasures. She is precious to him and gives him the attention he greatly desires.” As silence fell between them, Belle finished up bathing and dried herself off quickly to stave off the cool night air. Even with the numerous people and fires going in the building, the windows barely sealed and the northern winds brought a chill to seep through to the bone. Switching out of her bathing shift and into a fresh peignoir, she squeezed out the last of the water from the muslin and positioned it by the fire place to dry while Plumette tossed out the last of the water.

 

Donning her dressing gown, she stepped into her fur-lined slippers before turning and sinking down the new chair brought in to replace the other. A grin passed over her lips as she remembered the bright red staining Adam’s cheeks and neck as he explained it to Lumiere. By then, he redressed and put his wig back on but the conspiratorial smile Lumiere flashed Belle as he left made it clear that no one was fooled. Given the short time since their marriage that everyone in the castle almost trips over the two of them in various states of undress and sexual activity, a broken chair just landed as a briefly raised eyebrow and the two of them blushing like fools for a few days.

 

“So we have nothing planned for this evening then?” Belle asked with a hopeful uptick in her voice. The idea of being able to rest with a book and maybe some uninterrupted sleep sounded enticing. 

 

“Beyond getting something to eat, you are free to relax tonight. I’m sure the prince would be most glad to not have to deal with anymore than just the baron tonight.” Plumette moved around her and took a wide toothed comb to her hair, picking through the wet locks expertly. Several minutes passed in silence, Plumette’s occasional hums of approval or tsks of annoyance at a stubborn knot or curl a soothingly familiar noise. Once Belle’s hair hung in a damp dark curtain, Plumette dabbed a perfume blended from honeysuckle, roses, lavender, and wooded moss along the crown of her head as well as under hair along her neck. Rubbing a silk square also dabbed with the liquid over the comb, she brushed it through Belle’s hair so the scent had time to soak in as the hair dried. 

 

Belle disliked the heavy perfuming normally but felt the need to soak herself in something soothing and pleasant as opposed to the horrid stench that pervaded the palace halls. Eyeing the ornate glass bottle, she briefly recalled when the perfumer arrived at their palace to find the princess he was attending to covered in dirt and mud from helping to dig and build a new well outside the house. His blue-tinted face powder covered none of his surprise at her ‘oddness’ but he remained pleasant and kindly towards her the whole time they met. He also took great joy in her desire to learn how to make a good perfume that would last a long time instead of melting away quickly, practically preening when she called him a ‘scientist of the aromas’. 

 

A soft knock at the door announced Lumiere’s return along with another servant. Both of them carried trays, one with a tea pot and some small desserts, the other with plates and covered a large covered dish. Plumette cleared away the last of the accessories from the table and Belle stepped back as Lumiere dismissed the serving woman with a smile and thanks then set up the table. “The prince will be back shortly. The meeting with the Duc went rather quickly but well I hope. He sent me ahead to the kitchens to get dinner ready once he knew the King changed his mind about dining tonight,” he explained, accepting the glasses Plumette handed to them. 

 

Belle tucked herself into the full glass of bordeaux he provided, taking in the room in the glow of the firelight. When she turned back from the faint cracks in the plaster walls and telling water stains from a once leaking roof, she found the small table set beautifully with the covered platter in the middle. As she sank into the cushioned chair, Adam entered the room and quickly shut the door behind him. She fought a smirk down at his sigh of relief. “Where you being chased, my love?”

 

“Damn near,” he groused. Dropping a kiss on her cheek, he moved past and into the small separate room with Lumiere just behind. She nursed her glass as she listened to the familiar sounds of him shucking off his overcoat and ornamentations in favor of a fresh linen shirt and his evening robes. The quiet, muted conversation between the two men, as well as the comforting warmth of her clothes, the glow of the firelight, and the wine relaxed her greatly. When Adam returned, taking his seat across from her, he smiled at her serene state. “You look blessedly calm, my love,” he intoned, taking up her hand to kiss it. “I’m glad to see you so.”

 

Belle hummed, “But you still so tense. How did the meeting with the Duc go?”

 

Adam shrugged, watching as Lumiere lifted the cover to reveal a partridge pie, two small roasted rabbits, and an ember-roasted chicken. A loaf of bread, several cheeses, and a small jar of coarse mustard made up another plate. Simple boiled eggs and dried fruits made up the last small plate. As a prince du sang, he received access to the better aspects of the kitchen; Belle still thought it too much.

 

“The Duc…well, for all of his age and his wisdom, he is rather the sentimental sort. He’s promised to support my decision to marry out of the royal line but warned about the upcoming meeting with their majesties. Suggested I try to sweeten out the experience as much as possible.” 

 

“How so? You’ve already given the northern farmlands and the vineyards. What else do they need?”

 

“I’ll have to think on it, ma cherie, but for now, I’m going to think on very little besides the wine, the food, and you,” he sighed, giving her a weary smile. Belle understood; neither of them seemed to find rest in this place, always on their toes and dancing over broken glass with no more than a wing and a prayer. They could let the evening pass in less calculating manner and just enjoy the pleasure of each other’s company. She nodded with a smile of her own and dug into the feast before her, forgoing the utensils at the plate’s side.

 

* * *

 

 

“My love?”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“You must wake, it is just after dawn.”

 

“Mmmmm…nooooo.” 

 

Belle huffed a laugh as his arms tightened around her waist. Smoothing her hand over the one he lay against her belly, she turned her face to the side just enough to kiss the top of his blonde head. “We have mass to attend today and you are to be near his majesty when he passes through the hallway so you can—“

 

“So I can slip him a note much like a besotted school boy to the milk-faced lass of his current affections,” Adam muttered drowsily. She felt his face scrunch up in a frown. “This whole routine is more ridiculous the more we go on with it.”

 

“Yes, it is ludicrous but we must ‘go on with it’ so that we can go home without having to worry about coming back here for  hopefully a long, long time,” she explained, leaning down to kiss his fingertips. He hummed again, half pleased, half annoyed. “As much I don’t want to slap yet another bucket worth of makeup on my face and walk the world’s worth of distance around the gardens listening to inane conversation, I will do it so that we can go home.” Turning in his arms, she met his sleepy eyes, brushing her fingers over his cheeks in a soothing manner. “Because I want us to have dinner in our own dining room.” She kissed his chin and pulled back to look at him and continued. “I want us to watch the sunset over our lands, not the gardens of Versailles.” A kiss to his jaw. “I want us to be fussed over by Mrs. Potts and for me to fuss right back at her to better care for herself.” A kiss just under his ear…then a nibble on his ear lobe. At his shiver, she leaned forward and whispered, “I want to make love to my husband as loudly as I want without some noisy matron judging us for being so. And I want to conceive our first child in the warm of our home, not this freezing cold elaborate prison for the wealthy.”

 

Adam chuckled as he wrapped her up in a tight embrace. “You know, ma cherie, you seem to live to make near treacherous statements while in the worst places to do so.” Pressing a kiss to her lips, he smiled against them. “Must you always face danger with no more than a broken branch?”

 

“Better to fight with a branch than stand still and take the abuse,” she said quickly, kissing him again and more deeply. “And if I have to spend more than 3 weeks suffering through double doses of that awful rue so we can have a child at home, you will end up locking me away in a sanatorium for how insane I will be.”

 

“First of all, that will never happen. No matter how crazed you may be, you will remain with me until death do us part. Don’t think you can get out of your vows so quickly, madame,” he teased. “Secondly, why are you worried about conceiving now?”

 

“I don’t want to be with child when we travel home. I’ve heard nothing but horror stories from both high born, common, and low born women like me about those first months being the absolute worst and I refuse to possibly be held back here because of it.”

 

“Belle,” Adam said in a quiet but firm tone. Her eyes met his and she saw a fierceness alight in them that burned brightly. “I don’t ever want you to say you are low born. You have more integrity, beauty, compassion, and kindness than the entire Bourbon line combined. Don’t ever let the fact that you came from humble beginnings color how you see yourself compared to the rest of them.” Touching his forehead to hers, his tone dropped low and dangerous. “I will duel any fool who lets such foolish words fly from their mouth, even if it comes from the King.”

 

Belle paused before a smirk drew up one side of her mouth. “Now who’s threatening treasonous acts?”

 

“For you, my love, I would go to war with France itself,” he smiled softly. Moving in to kiss her again, he frowned as she pulled back. 

 

“We have to get up,” she explained with a sing-song lilt. Kissing him quickly, she made to extricate herself from the bed before strong arms wrapped about her and pulled her back. Yelping at first, she then burst into giggles as Adam peppered her neck and shoulders with kisses. “You want to stay here forever, don’t you?” she whined mockingly.

 

“Never. God, I can’t want to be so far from here that Versailles is less real than a mirage in the desert,” he answered, pressing a firm kiss at the base of her neck before resting his chin on her shoulder. A silent moment passed before he asked, “I haven’t made love to you since the night before last, have I?”

 

“And you won’t be doing so again until we return to these chambers tonight,” she answered, untangling from his hold to rise from the small bed. Stretching her stiff limbs, she turned to find his calculating gaze running up and down her body. Leaning forward, she cupped his chin in her hand and smiled. “The sooner we get this day over, the sooner you can be back here and between my legs.”

 

“Or sooner than that,” he smirked.

 

“You really think I’m going to let you take me out in public or in some random closet? In this place of all places?” 

 

His grin widened. “Darling, by the time I get started, you’ll be begging me not to stop.” He jumped slightly on the bed, pressing a kiss to her lips and startling her slightly. “Besides, I’ve yet to show you my favorite places in Versailles.” Rising from the bed, he brushed past her and leaned into her ear to whisper, “Don’t wear anything…hindering under your gown today.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SOORRRRRRRRRY!!!!
> 
> My life has not been conducive to writing in the past several months. I have both this and my Cinderella story to post up for (the latter of which I'm trying to wrap up). I can't promise a frequency or schedule but I do intend to finish out this story so I will continue to write and post as able. 
> 
> Thank you for being patient and kind. Your words and reviews mean the world to me.

**Author's Note:**

> Historically, Versailles was terrible for anyone not from the immediate royal family. Multiple research sources for events for the daily life of those at Versailles court were used. Also, good reference point, watch the movie "Farewell my Queen" to see how courtiers lived at Versailles. It's eye-opening.


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